Hunted
by munchydino12
Summary: /AU/ Unique benders are classified as 'Special Bender' or 'Spec' for short and are sought by ruthless people willing to stop at nothing to gain power. Over half a century after the Hundred Year War, a Spec named Bolin is born. When his unique ability to bend earth with his mind is discovered, a price is placed on his head. Now it is up to Mako, Bolin's only brother, to protect him.
1. Part I: Ashes of Death

**A/N**: I decided to try my hand at another AU fanfic about my favorite Legend of Korra characters Mako and Bolin. I'm uber psyched about the upcoming finale so I hope you guys enjoy this!

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**Summary**: Not all Benders are born equal. Some can Bend metal; others can Bloodblend in broad daylight. Unique Benders are classified as 'Special Bender' or 'Spec' for short and are sought by ruthless people willing to stop at nothing to gain power.

Over half a century after the Hundred Year War, a Spec named Bolin is born. When his unique ability to Bend earth with his mind is discovered, a price is placed on his head. Now it is up to Mako, Bolin's only brother, to protect him from the unknown forces that seek ultimate control.

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**Part I**

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**Chapter One: Ashes of Death**

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The father was the first to fall, the first to scream out in pain when the heat became too intense, when the assailant refused to release the grip on his throat. Soon the pale flesh was black and the father screamed no more.

Then, it was the mother's turn. She struggled and raged, screaming at her sons to flee, to escape. But the dark alleyway was a prison, a cage, trapping them like fish in a net. The eight-year-old boy watched in shocked silence, clutching his sobbing younger brother to his chest.

"MAKO! BOLIN!" their mother shrieked as one hooded man restrained her arms while another approached, a hand reaching out to pull her head back by the roots of her brown hair. With a mighty effort, the mother retaliated with a swift kick to the man in front of her. He grunted but grabbed her by the chin. He was ruthless but efficient. Mako watched his mother's body slump to the ground next to her husband's.

Mako stood stalk still, unable to breathe, unable to swallow. His sweater was soaked through now with his brother's tears. The two men, wearing identical black jackets with their hoods up, approached the boys slowly, taking their time, relishing how defenseless and weak their prey were. Mako felt something wet against the legs of his trousers. He couldn't tell if it was his urine or Bolin's.

"Well, well, well…" said the man on the left, kneeling down to Mako's eye level. "What do we have here?" He removed his hood and Mako couldn't help but stare at first.

The man was a gruesome thing, his face scarred and burned, one side of his head completely shaved. A set of broken brown teeth was bared in a sinister smile. Several earrings and silver studs adorning the man's face glinted in the light of the ember he was holding in his gnarled hands. Up close, Mako could see that the ring finger was missing.

"Two little youngsters but room for only one," said the scarred man, clucking his tongue disappointedly. He reached out his free hand to cup Mako's chin. Mako jerked his head back as though burned.

"Look at him!" crowed the man to his companion who hadn't said a word so far let alone removed his hood. "What's the matter, boy, afraid I'll bite?"

Mako did not reply. He was too scared to even look at the man directly. Bolin whimpered slightly, his face still buried in his brother's chest.

"We don't have much time," said the second man. It was the first time Mako had heard him speak. The voice was deeper yet more eloquent than the scarred man. "The police will be here soon enough. We need to take the Spec and get out –"

"All right, already!" snapped the scarred man, scowling at his companion. "Tight schedule, I get it, I get it, sheesh…" he muttered, getting up again. Turning back to the boys he said, "Sorry, kids, I'd love to play more but we're on a time limit."

The flame in the palm of the man's hand grew stronger, illuminating the cramped alleyway, the dead bodies on the ground. Mako tried backing away into the wall but it was useless. He could feel Bolin shaking, his erratic heartbeat thudding against his own.

"Give us your little brother, kid," the scarred man commanded, addressing Mako. "Come on, send him over to us. I promise I won't hurt him; he's worth a lot more than you'll ever be."

Mako let go of Bolin who refused to release the front of his brother's sweater. The hooded man stepped forward to pull Bolin away but then Mako quickly pushed his brother behind his back, standing as a barrier between Bolin and the two men. Mako's heart raced, thudding painfully against his ribcage as he faced the two men. Bolin was now hugging Mako's back, his whole body quaking with fear.

"The stupid boy thinks he can stop us," chuckled the scarred man as his companion tried to shove Mako out of the way. "Get back, I'll deal with this squirt."

The hooded man stepped back as the scarred man came forward, a ball of fire in his hand. An insane grin was stretched across his pockmarked face as he brought the flame closer and closer.

Mako felt like his body was ablaze, his blood boiling, sweat pouring down his face. His heart hammering, his head aching, he watched in a daze as the fire was brought within an inch of his face. The flame flickered and danced, mesmerizing him, whispering to him. Mako, it seemed to sing, take me. _Take me_.

"Not ready to give up your Spec brother, kid? I can help you with that," the scarred man said, relishing the way the boy seemed fixated, almost dazed by the ball of fire. "This might hurt a little." The man drew his hand back along with the flame, preparing to strike –

An earsplitting cry of anguish – like the sound that accompanied broken bones and flayed flesh, only a thousand times worse – shattered the night. The drawn out scream of terror and agony ended abruptly as though someone had turned off a radio. Like a domino effect, lights were turned on and curtains ripped back – up and down the streets, people peered outside in fear, wondering what the source of the sudden yet terrible scream was.

A few blocks away, a police patrol car came rushing to the scene of the crime: a dark alleyway which reeked of the unmistakable stench of roasted flesh. The police officer retched slightly as he entered the alleyway with his partner close behind him, a flashlight and baton at the ready.

"Who's there?" the officer called out, moving his flashlight across the ground. The beam of light landed on something heaped on the ground. "Holy spirits…"

The bodies of a man and a woman were lying neatly side by side on their backs in the middle of the alleyway. The man was dressed in a traveling coat and brown trousers, a small suitcase lying discarded near his hand. Parts of clothes were scorched, the sleeve of his coat mostly burned away. His neck was blackened, the skill melted away to reveal the burned tissue of his throat.

Next to the man, the woman lay with her hands folded on top of her stomach, her brown dress and traveling cloak in the same wretched condition as her male companion. It was difficult to tell what sort of expression she had for half her face and hair were badly burned, the charred remains of her hair scattered around her. Most bizarre of all, a hat - unmarked and clean – had been placed over her head as though to hide some of the damage.

"Lee, I've found something!"

Wrenching his eyes away from the two bodies, Officer Lee turned to his partner who was farther down the alleyway and crouching over something. With of feeling of foreboding, Lee went over to take a look.

"What've you got?" Lee asked. His partner did not answer, merely pointing his light at what lay on the ground.

At first, Lee thought it was large pile of soot and bits of blackened wood but then he noticed something white sticking out and leaned forward. "What the –"

Lee nearly jumped back in shock, the taste of bile filling his mouth as nausea swept over him. He glanced at his partner who was still staring fixedly at the dark mass on the ground, his face pale and rigid.

"This is…" Lee began, unable to find the proper words.

The black pile was not bits of wood at all but the charred remains of a human body – a body so severely burned that there was nothing left except ashes and bones. In all his fifteen year on the job, Lee had never seen such a grotesque murder.

"Who would do this?" asked his partner in a barely audible whisper. "Who _could_ do this? Agni Kais?"

Lee shook his head. "I've seen Agni Kai kills before. The two bodies back there, definitely Agni Kai's doing – but this? No, this… this is something else."

Unknown to the officers who stood in silence, the perpetrator responsible for the pile of soot was running as fast as he could, through the empty streets with little Bolin fast asleep on his back. Mako ran blindly, his only source of fuel the strange burning his heart, the same sensation he had felt back in the dark alleyway when the fire had whispered to him, begged him to take it, to wield it, and –

Fire. Smoke. Screams. That was all he could remember now. Everything had moved so fast, so fluidly as though he were dreaming. When it was all over, Mako was the only one standing – standing in the alley with ashes strewn all around him, Bolin passed out on the ground at his feet…

Fighting back tears, Mako remembered his parents lying on the ground. He knew they were dead, that he had little time to flee, but he didn't want to leave them just lying there, broken. His father, so tall and wise; his mother, so kind and strong – they were both gone, stripped of this world.

But Mako knew what had to be done. He'd known since his Bolin's birth when his mother had gently taken his hands, had made him swear to protect his little brother. When he heard the police siren, he acted instinctively, escaping the alley with Bolin on his back just as the patrol car rounded the corner. He had no idea which way to go but far, far away.

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**To be continued...**

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**A/N**: To clarify, Specs are Benders with unique Bending powers that cannot be learned by all Benders. For instance, not all Earthbenders are capable of Metalbending and Bloodbending without the full moon is almost unheard of. While Metalbenders are more common than Benders like Tarrlok, there are even rarer Specs like Combustion Man and, in this alternate universe, Bolin. Rare Specs usually have to live in hiding for fear of being taken by triad bosses, corrupt politicians or generally anyone who wishes to abuse the power of a Special Bender.

Questions, comments, and suggestions are welcome! Thanks for reading :D


	2. Hunters and Nightmares

**A/N**: Wow, I honestly didn't expect this much enthusiasm! Thankfully, my exams are finally over and I can get back to writing. Thanks for all your wonderful comments!

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**Chapter Two: Hunters and Nightmares**

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Bolin was a year old. He smiled delightedly up at his parents' faces. Just out of sight, he could hear his older brother conversing with other relatives. Everyone sounded happy, content.

"Go on, baby, pick something from the pile, that's a good boy," his mother chided, her warm brown eyes smiling encouragingly.

Bolin looked at the array of toys spread out in front of him. There was a spinning wooden contraption, a bright rubber ball, and several shiny metal rings among various other trinkets. Babbling excitedly, Bolin reached out a pudgy hand to grasp the rings when something else caught his attention. It was a clay doll sitting propped up against a pile of building blocks. With a broad red gash for a mouth, the doll was dressed in overalls made of cheap green fabric. Two coal-black eyes were imbedded in its smooth face. Something about the piercing gaze scared Bolin and he immediately started to whimper.

"What's the matter, Bo, something wrong?" It was his father who was peering down at him with his usual reassuring smile. "It's okay, buddy, just take it slow."

But it was no use. The doll continued to stare, leering at him with its bloody smile, its hair arranged in tufts of white yarn across its head. Bolin started crying, his high-pitched wails attracting the attention of the other guests. All eyes were on him now, some of them trying to cheer him up by making ludicrous faces. He cried harder.

"Maybe he's just tired," suggested his mother, trying to hold Bolin though he thrashed his tiny fists, snot and tears dribbling down his chin.

And then it happened. Someone shrieked as the doll's head exploded: chunks of clay flew in every direction and the body, bleeding cotton fluff from its torn neck, soared into the air. The room went silent.

The deflated cloth body of the doll landed in Bolin's lap, the head missing, most of the cotton stuffing floating to the ground like wispy snowflakes. Then, after gingerly examining the torn green overalls, he stopped crying. All around, faces peered down at him: his mother and father, his brother, his relatives. Suddenly, Bolin broke into a radiant smile, emitted a gurgling giggle, and held the headless doll aloft for everyone to see. Strangely, none of them smiled back.

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**...**

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She was a resilient Hunter. She didn't believe in spirits or saints, nor did she ponder her own choices, however bloodstained they might be. Her decisions were based on orders, not instincts. She served one master, one allegiance, one cause. And last night, she had failed that cause; or rather, others had interfered with her success.

"How could they let this happen!" she shouted, literally spitting sparks as she paced up and down the room. In her rage, she knocked an ornate china figurine from an antique desk. It fell and shattered on the mahogany floor, no doubt leaving a dent. She couldn't care less.

A nervous-looking messenger stood watching her furious reaction, quailing under her scalding anger despite the fact that she was half his age. However, what she lacked in years was more than compensated by the way she commanded authority; how she lived and breathed it like her personal oxygen; how it permeated her like rich perfume.

"Lady Ona," said the messenger, sweating profusely. "It – it would be advisable to p-postpone the pursuit. We've already lost two men –"

"LOST TWO MEN?" Ona thundered, her gray eyes lighting up with cold fury. "We've lost more than two men, you _idiot_, we've lost –"

Before she could finish, the oak doors were flung open to reveal a man dressed in muted tones of burgundy. At the sight of him, the messenger bowed deeply. Ona nodded in recognition but did not return the intruder's open smile.

"Not interrupting, I hope?" said the newcomer, brushing snow out of his dark hair. He removed his jacket and dusted off a layer of frost. "Do you mind taking this down to the coatroom, my good fellow?" he asked the messenger, who hurriedly took the proffered jacket and scurried from the room.

"You've heard the news." Ona said. It wasn't a question. She'd known Ty Rhan for several years now. The man never missed a thing.

Ty Rhan shrugged, settling himself into a comfortable armchair by the fireplace. A former intelligence officer under the United Nations Forces, he was surprisingly laid back, almost as though espionage and covert dealings were equivalent to a pleasant hobby. With disarming brown eyes and a striking face, hardly anyone guessed his current line of work – until it was too late, of course.

"Let's hear it then," Ona snapped, annoyed by his nonchalant behavior. She glanced down at the floor which was scattered with the fragments of broken china, and regretted having lost her temper so quickly. "What could possibly fix this utter disaster?"

"Not an utter disaster. Actually, I find it rather… intriguing." He smiled at Ona's doubtful expression.

Ona walked over to the fireplace, her brunette ponytail swishing behind her. As though acknowledging her approach, the orange flames reared like a frightened poodle-pony, its wild manes grazing the steel grate. "If they had succeeded, we'd have that Spec in our hands already."

"If they had succeeded, one of your men wouldn't be in the hospital right now and the other wouldn't be in a matchbox." Ty Rhan glanced over at Ona who was still contemplating the flames. "You know, sometimes I get the feeling you actually _want_ your men to suffer."

"Since when did you care about my subordinates?" She sneered. "You'd sooner kill them yourself than watch them fail."

"True," Ty Rhan conceded, examining his fingernails with mild interest. "But then again, I don't call the shots. Now, we might've lost the child but we've gained some interesting information."

"We don't need more interesting information on the Earthbender Spec. Our sources were clear that –"

"Not the Spec, Ona, his brother. The F_irebender,_" he said, stressing the final word. When Ona remained silent he continued, "I've just been to visit Aizon – you know, the one who escaped. Apparently, he woke up this morning and seems fairly clearheaded, although the healers did say he would lose his left arm –"

" – your point?"

"Naturally, I questioned him about last night. Says he and his partner managed to kill the parents before cornering the children. That bit does check out since both bodies were recovered from the scene… along with Aizon's partner – what was left of him anyway."

"You're asking me to believe that they were overpowered by a couple of _children_?"

"I'm not asking you believe anything, I'm just giving you the facts." Ty Rhan shifted slightly in his chair, the better to observe Ona who still had her back turned. "The Firebender boy incinerated Aizon's partner and most of Aizon's left arm."

For the first time, Ona turned to face Ty Rhan directly. Her expression was colder than ever, her gray eyes like steel in a wintry gale. Like a puppy sensing its master's scorn, the flames behind her died down to smoldering embers, hiding among the logs.

"Send word to others," She said abruptly, spearing Ty Rhan with her icy gaze. "Double the ransom money on the Spec. I don't care which triad gets to him first, I just want him found alive. Him and his Firebender brother."

Ty Rhan smirked – not his usual warm smile – but a pitiless grin that betrayed the true character behind the respectable façade. He rose from the armchair and bowed slightly. Just before he opened the oak doors to leave, he turned back with the air of a dutiful butler addressing his mistress and asked: "Anything else?"

"Yes, actually, there is," said Ona, walking over to the desk, the china fragments crunching beneath her leather boots. "Take care of Aizon for me, won't you?" Her calm words might have passed for solemn sincerity, but then – without the slightest change in her voice – Ona added, "And make it painless. Wouldn't want him to _suffer_, do we?"

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**...**

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He saw only darkness, black, horrifying darkness.

But then the sounds came, the sounds that pressed in on him, suffocating him, drowning him. They were screams and cries, voices he knew, voices he'd learned to trust, to seek. Mommy and Daddy's voices… He could smell something, something horrible, something like burning meat and wood smoke mixed with the strange scent of rust and salt. Bolin could not see a single thing but still heard the voices, heard them screaming, and now he was screaming too –

"Bolin!"

Bolin's eyes fluttered open. It was still dark on the streets but he could make out the outline of his brother's face. Mako, his brother.

Tears filling his eyes, Bolin clung to the front of Mako's sweater, not caring that they smelled of the same smoke from his dreams. Shivering in the cold night air, Bolin sniffled quietly while Mako hugged him tightly, whispering soothingly in his ear.

"It's okay, Bo, you're okay. You're safe."

"I… I… want t-to go h-home…" Bolin hiccupped, rubbing his wet cheeks against Mako's chest.

The two of them were currently crouched beneath a store shop awning. Around them, a white dusting of snow covered the gray, dingy streets, the dented trash can lids, and the dim street lamps. A few blocks away, the warbling song of a drunk echoed in the gloom.

"We will, I promise," whispered Mako gently. He lay Bolin back down on the gunnysack he had rummaged from a dumpster. "Go back to sleep."

"I'm… I'm cold." Bolin mumbled but he closed his eyes anyways, the tears already drying on his face.

Mako lay down beside his little brother, trying to warm him as much as possible. A few minutes later, Bolin's sniffling subsided, his breathing slowing to a gentle rhythm as he eased into a slumber.

Mako felt exhausted but couldn't sleep and not because of either the cold or the aching hunger. A new fear was gripping his heart: minutes before waking, he had felt the ground's violent shudder – almost as if to echo Bolin's nightmares, the tortured dreams of a six-year-old Spec.

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******To be continued...**

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**A/N**: "Hunters" are people who seek out and capture Special Benders (Specs). Most Hunters operate within a triad and work in groups, although some work as freelancers. Freelance Hunters are usually hired independently to hunt specific targets by powerful individuals such as politicians, industrialists, and even royal families. Hunters are ranked depending on efficiency and the number of successful captures.


	3. Responsibilities

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Thanks for all the great comments so far, I really appreciate it :-)

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**Chapter Three: Responsibilities**

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Down by the docks of Republic City Harbor, a group of people, all wearing identical hooded jackets, stood in a line as a sleek Satomobile came into view. At the front of the group, Ona watched as the driver hurried out of the front of the car and opened the passenger seat.

As a tall gray-haired man dressed in an elegant suit stepped out, Ona and the others saluted respectfully, their eyes never waning from the man's face.

"A farewell party, is it?" he asked, his amber eyes scanning the group of people. His gaze came to rest on Ona who bowed at once.

"Sir, we've come to see you off on your journey," said Ona.

"And a journey it will be," replied their leader, flashing a set of pearl white dentures. "I expect it will be a Spec-tacular one, don't you agree?"

Some of the members tittered nervously while Ona allowed herself a rare grin. She knew perfectly well what an understatement it was. If the mission succeeded, the Agni Kais would dominate as an undisputed force. She only regretted that she would not be a part of the main action. Her duty was here, taking care of business while the boss was away.

A curly-haired captain approached them at that very moment, bowing deeply at the sight of the boss. "Sir, the ship's ready for you and your men. We leave in fifteen minutes."

The boss nodded and dismissed the captain. He turned back to Ona and said, "I trust that you'll handle things while I'm away, Lieutenant. It's not every day you get to sit in the front seat, is it?"

"I won't let you down, sir," said Ona, saluting him once more.

"Excellent," he leaned in a little closer and whispered, "because another mistake might not look too good on your track record, Lieutenant."

Ona flushed at the mention of the previous night's debacle but said nothing. Soon it was time for the boss to board the ship. She remained on the dock with the others, standing in single file as the anchors were raised. The ship left the harbor, slowly shrinking into the horizon.

Without meaning to, Ona made a fist, releasing a stream of orange flames that curled into smoke, dissipating into thin air.

"Something wrong, Lieutenant?" asked the nearest subordinate.

"Yes," replied Ona curtly. Her gray eyes glinted with malice. "There's a Spec on the loose that I need to take care of."

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**...**

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Bitter winds blew scraps of newspaper and litter through the streets. Sunshine was scarce, casting its opaque light over Republic City for brief spurts during the day. Whenever the cold atmosphere felt a little less unbearable, the taunting skies would open up a flurry of snow, covering everything with a layer of sheet glass.

It was barely daybreak and already the two brothers had been walking for an hour, ambling sleepily through the side alleys, trying to avoid the main roads as much as possible. Mako held Bolin's stiff fingers, trying to warm them between his own numb fingers.

"I'm hungry," announced Bolin, rubbing his eyes with his other free hand. He had been repeating this sentiment about every ten minutes since waking.

"I know, Bo, I know," mumbled Mako, trying to keep a clear head though he was on the verge of collapse. His rumbling stomach coupled with the lack of sleep the previous night was making it very difficult for him to walk through the unfamiliar alleys – not that he had a destination in mind or anything.

The alley led to a side street lined with stores. Most of them were closed but the butcher's shop was open, slabs of red meat hanging in the shop window. At the sight of food, Bolin and Mako's stomachs growled in unison.

"I'm hungry," Bolin repeated.

Mako didn't argue but bravely soldiered on, dragging Bolin away from the sight of fresh food. Several blocks down, they stopped near a bench. A few feet away, a vendor was selling steaming dumplings from a cart. The smell was enough to make their mouths water.

Struck with an impulsive thought, Mako quietly told Bolin to stay put and snuck over to the dumpling cart, the intoxicating smell of warm food aggravating his taste buds. The vendor standing guard was a stout man with a bushy goatee and a wrinkled brow. He was perusing the morning paper, whistling tunelessly while Mako crouched next to the cart, holding his breath. The vendor continued to whistle as he turned a page, unaware of the little boy's presence.

It was over in a flash. Mako slipped a fat dumpling from the edge of the cart. The vendor kept on whistling, apparently too engrossed in his newspaper to notice that one of his dumplings had mysteriously disappeared.

Mako returned to the bench where Bolin was waiting patiently. He quickly pulled his younger brother around a street corner, walking briskly until they were a good distance away from the dumpling cart. Once they were safely hidden in behind a dumpster behind a gas station, Mako pulled the dumpling from his coat pocket.

"Here you go," he said, handing Bolin half the dumpling.

The dumpling was still warm and smelled quite delicious. The inside was stuffed with sweet red bean paste, the purple filling oozing out at the sides when Bolin took a hungry bite. Mako carefully bit into his own half, making sure that none of the filling dribbled down his chin.

"Mmm, it tastes good!" Bolin stuffed the last bite into his mouth and licked his fingers of sticky bean paste residue. "Can we get more?" he asked his older brother, who was almost done with his own.

Mako, whose hand was half way to his open mouth, stopped abruptly and looked at his brother. After a nighttime of crying, Bolin's eyes were slightly puffy, his face dirty from sleeping on the streets. His clothes – which hadn't been washed since the previous night – smelled as if they had been recently salvaged from a burning garbage truck. Mako could only assume that he himself was no bottle of perfume.

"Here," said Mako, handing Bolin the last piece of his dumpling. "I think I have a stomach ache."

"Are you okay?" asked Bolin, his green eyes widening in surprise.

"Yeah, it's nothing, just eat this. Unless you want me to throw it away."

"No, I'll eat it!" said Bolin quickly, holding his out his small hand.

Bolin took the leftovers which disappeared in a blink of an eye. Mako smiled sadly at his brother, wondering if this was their last meal for the day, perhaps longer. He still felt uneasy about stealing, something their parents had always been strict about. But now that they were gone, the real problem was getting caught. What if the dumpling vendor was looking for the thief right now?

"We should get going," said Mako, taking Bolin by the hand. It felt sticky and warm.

"Where?" Bolin asked, stumbling along the street.

Mako didn't answer right away but noticed that his younger brother's round face was stained with bean paste and dirt. If their mother were alive to see this, he could only imagine the fit she would have.

They reached an intersection which was slowly beginning to fill with the first of the early commuters. Satomobiles trundled along the slush-covered road while pedestrians carefully picked their way across the slippery sidewalk, shivering against the frigid morning air. According to a dented sign post, a straight path from where the brothers' stood led directly to Yue Bay and Republic City Harbor.

"I've got an idea, Bo," said Mako, giving his little brother's hand a squeeze. "Something tells me we need a quick wash. Just a hunch."

* * *

**The South Pole**

* * *

Senna and Tonraq, two natives of the Southern Water Tribe, normally welcomed their guest with all the manners of gracious hosts. Today, however, when the three Elders of the Order of the White Lotus showed up at their door, Tonraq merely presented a tight grin whereas Senna's feeble attempts at hiding her displeasure made her look constipated.

"Good evening," greeted the portly man in the middle, two others flanking his sides. "I hope I find you well?"

"Charmed," answered Senna through gritted teeth. Then, dropping all pretenses, she asked, "What manner of business does the White Lotus have with us this time? I believe it has only been a few short weeks since your last visit."

"I assure you that the White Lotus does not waste time making casual calls," replied the portly man coolly. "May we come in? We have some important matters to discuss."

Grudgingly, Senna stepped aside so that her husband Tonraq could open the door wider. The three White Lotus Elders stepped in after brushing snow from their fur-lined cloaks and boots. Without further invitation, the Elders made their way to the living room and settled down on the visitor's seat, the hide of a buffalo-yak. Senna and Tonraq entered close behind them and took their place on the host's seat, facing the three elders.

The Elder on the left was a thin woman named Erma who had a pinched look of a fussy old maiden aunt. The man on the right called Washu had a pointed brown beard and wore a pair of round glasses. The middle Elder – the leader – was a squat portly man with a balding crown and a bushy beard of graying hair. His name was Gappak.

"What important matters bring the Order to our humble home?" asked Tonraq, a touch of irony in his otherwise polite voice. The first time the Elders had visited, he had been nothing but sincere; now he was trying to keep the sarcasm out of his words.

"We have come to discuss the security circumstances surrounding your daughter," answered Erma, who held herself stiffly like a wooden board as though it pained her to relax her spine.

"We've been through this!" said Senna angrily, bunching her hands into fists. "You will not take Korra away from us, she's too young –"

"This is for her own safety," interrupted Gappak sharply. "Protecting the Avatar is our responsibility."

"And_ our_ responsibility is to protect our daughter," replied Tonraq as Senna shook with indignation beside him. "We have already agreed to allow the White Lotus sentries to guard our home – at the cost of our privacy, I might add."

To the right, Washu grunted indifferently. "A small price to pay to protect the Avatar, I should think."

"At any rate," said Gappak, "the White Lotus sentries will not be able to protect your daughter for very long." He paused briefly, and then continued, "We have reason to believe that the Hunters are coming."

This statement shocked both Tonraq and Senna into silence. A sudden chill seemed to prickle down the back of Senna's neck, the anger in her subsiding like a retreating wave. Tonraq stared at the Elders in muted apprehension, his arm instinctively pulling his wife closer.

"It's for the best," continued Gappak solemnly. "We understand that this is difficult for you but… " he sighed. "Ever since Avatar Aang passed away, the kidnapping of Special Benders has become little more than a sport in Republic City. To the most notorious Hunters, Korra's status as Avatar makes her the most valuable trophy of all. They will strike now while she is still young and we must protect her at all costs."

When neither Senna nor Tonraq spoke, the leader of the Elders motioned for his two companions to rise. As he got to his feet, he looked back towards the two parents with a mixture of sympathy and pity.

"We'll be back at dawn tomorrow to hear your decision," Gappak said quietly. "I'm quite sure you'll make the right choice."

The three departed, leaving Senna and Tonraq still sitting on the animal skins. After a moment, Senna's shoulders shook with involuntary sobs. Tonraq held her to his chest, where she started crying freely, her wails of despair muffled by his coat.

"Mommy?"

The voice of a little girl – _her_ little girl – made Senna raise her head in alarm, hastily wiping her wet face on her sleeve. Korra was barely seven years old and yetstood like she owned the world, confident and brave in her naivete. When she saw her mother's tear-stained face, however, her expression melted into a look of concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked, running to her mother's side. "Daddy, why is Mommy crying?"

"It's okay, baby, Mommy's fine," Senna said, pulling her daughter into a hug.

"You should be in bed, Korra," said Tonraq softly. But he made no move to remove his daughter from Senna's arms.

"Mommy, I saw those Order people leaving," said Korra, her arms wrapped around her mother's neck. "What were they doing here?"

"Oh, that," said Senna dismissively, smiling as brightly as possible, not taking her eyes off her precious daughter. "That was… well, Korra, it was about – about the big surprise."

"A surprise?"

"Yes, darling. Mommy and Daddy were going to keep it a secret but since you're up right now, I'll tell you. You're going away for your Avatar training."

Korra's eyes lit up at the last two words. "Really?" Smiling delightedly, she jumped up and down with excitement, her three ponytails bouncing in unison. "I'm gonna be the bestest Avatar ever, huh, Mommy?"

With a quick look at her husband's face, Senna gave her daughter a watery smile and hugged her tightly. "Of course you will, Korra. Of course you will."

* * *

******To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: By the way, I'd like to know what you guys thought of the The Legend of Korra finale. Are there parts you thought were left out that you'd like to see in this story? Were you satisfied with the explanation of Amon's powers? Drop me a line in your review because I'd really like to know your reactions. Thanks!

Also, sorry about the grammar mistakes in this one. I'll edit everything once I have more time.


	4. A Fatal Catch

**A/N**: Hey, ya'll! Thank you to all who kindly answered my questions about their thoughts on the season finale! :D As a special gift, I give you an insanely fast update (by my standards ^^;;) and hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter Four: A Fatal Catch**

* * *

The harbor was filled with boats: massive cargo ships waiting to be unloaded; fishing boats with barnacle-spotted bellies; and beautiful passenger liners for wealthy patrons. A set of stairs led down to a narrow dock lined with smaller rowboats. They were covered with tarps, bobbing up and down in the gentle waves.

Squatting among the line of rowboats, Mako and Bolin hurriedly washed their faces, their coats off and their sleeves rolled back even though the air was frigid and their breath rose up in puffs of steam. The brothers winced as they rubbed their dirty faces with the icy water, their cheeks turning raw and red from the cold.

"D-d-done…" said Bolin, teeth chattering as he pulled back from the edge of the dock.

"M-me t-too…" Mako wiped his face on his shoulder and then used his sleeve to help Bolin dry his face.

The brothers put on their coats and were just about to leave when a pair of legs blocked their path. Mako and Bolin craned their heads up to see a towering man who was wearing a thin jacket over his overalls. His face looked weather-beaten and spotted, eyes a dull brown, unshaven chin jutting out menacingly. A mop of greasy hair was hidden beneath a fishing hat the color of chewed moss.

"What're you little brats doin' here?" the stranger asked, leering down at the brothers with great dislike. "Come to steal my fishing gear, have you? Thought you could get away with it this time, eh?"

Before either brother could answer, the fisherman grabbed Bolin by the collar of his coat and lifted him bodily from the ground. Frightened, Bolin whimpered, his feet kicking in midair, struggling to get free.

"Let go of him!" yelled Mako, trying to pull his brother back down. It was useless; Mako, however tall he was for his age, could barely reach the man's belt. Still, he did not back down. "He didn't do anything! Let him go!"

Just when the fisherman looked ready to smack Mako into the water, the sound of a horn blared from the street above, and the scratchy recording of a children's song started playing loudly through a megaphone. For some reason, the fisherman – still holding Bolin like a freshly caught trout – smiled sinisterly, flashing a line of crooked brown teeth at Mako.

"You want your little friend, kid? Well, come and get him!" The fisherman took off, running up the stairs. Surprised, Mako sprinted after him though he was no match for the faster adult.

By the time Mako got to the top of the stairs, he was out of breath and holding a stitch in his side. The fisherman was just a few feet away, still gripping Bolin by the scruff of his neck, and was conversing with the driver of a large white van through the window.

"Hey!" shouted Mako, stumbling towards the fisherman. Both the fisherman and the truck driver watched him come closer, the same grins spread across their faces. "Let… Let him go."

"So, that's two you've got here?" the truck driver enquired the fisherman who nodded. The driver chuckled, motioned for the fisherman to step back then opened the door and climbed out of the van. "First we need to get the orphans in the back – then you'll get your money," he said to the fisherman.

"Here, hold this," the fisherman grunted, handing Bolin off to the driver. "I'll get the other brat."

Mako was now too tired to run but he had no intention of leaving his brother behind. He watched helplessly as the driver opened the back of the van just wide enough to push Bolin inside. Meanwhile, the fisherman was coming closer and closer, a sinister smile adorning his weather-beaten face.

"C'mon, you little squirt," said the fisherman. "You're little friend's waiting for you in that van right over there."

Without thinking, Mako sprinted between the fisherman's legs and straight at the driver who still had his back turned. Summoning a reckless courage he'd never felt before, Mako rammed the driver's knees with a fiery fist, causing him to yell out in pain as the back of his pants were singed away to the skin. He jumped sideways, leaving the back door of the van slightly open.

"Bo, come out!" Mako yelled frantically, pulling the door open wider. "It's me! I –"

Something from behind him smacked his head into the door. Mako saw white lights and stars burst before his eyes, the pain blinding him as he was lifted by the waistband of his pants and tossed head first into the van. His vision cleared just in time for him to see the fisherman's smug face before he shut the door. Mako was plunged into darkness.

"Mako?" From somewhere to the left, the unmistakable voice of Bolin issued from the gloom.

"I'm right here, bro, you okay?" asked Mako, groping around in the dark. He grasped what felt like someone's ankle but it was wrenched from his grip the moment he touched it.

"Hey watch it, loser, that's my foot!" It was an unfamiliar child's voice, probably not much older than Mako himself.

It turned out that the brothers weren't the only ones in the back of the van. By the sounds of it, there were at least four others, all the children and – as far as Mako could tell by their voices – all boys.

"Mako, I'm scared…" Bolin had moved right next to Mako.

Just then, the engine of the van hummed to life. There was the sound of a door slamming shut before the van started to move. The brothers lurched forward and sideways as the van turned a corner and sped off down the road. There was no way of telling where they were headed.

"Hey," Mako called out in the darkness to no one in particular. He wasn't entirely sure they were even listening. "Do any of you know where this van is going?"

A short silence was followed by a collective fit of laughter. One of the boys had a wheezing giggle which lasted longer than was strictly necessary. If they could see each other, the brothers might have exchanged bewildered looks but they simply sat in silence, wondering what the source of the amusement was.

"You two are orphans, then?" asked a slightly squeaky voice from the very back of the van.

"What does that got to do with anything?" replied Mako indignantly.

"'Cause where we're going, it ain't no place for orphans," chuckled the wheezy boy who coughed before continuing, "I 'spect that man sold you two for a bit of cash. Bad luck for you two, eh?"

Bolin squirmed a bit, clearly scared of the wheezy boy's words. Mako gave Bolin's hand a slight squeeze, not wanting to betray his own mounting fear.

"We're not so lucky ourselves, are we?" This voice belonged to a third boy, who sounded detached or bored, perhaps a little bit of both. There was a rustling noise as someone shifted around. He continued, "Better to be caught on the streets than be sent by your own parents."

An awkward silence fell over the boys. Apparently, the mention of the word "parents" had struck a nerve in all of them – including the brothers who sat in the dark, picturing their mother and father's faces. Outside, the road must have hit a bump in the road, for everyone inside was jostled about, like beans in a glass jar.

"We ain't like them, though," said the wheezy boy, an edge to his voice. "Nah, they're orphan slaves now, they're owned by the factory. We're working to feed our families and –"

The wheezy boy was interrupted by a fourth boy's derisive laughter. It sounded like the amused boy was sitting closest to the brothers, probably the same boy whose ankle Mako had accidentally grabbed earlier.

"Wow… and here I was thinking I was the only dumb bastard," the boy chuckled, a little breathless from laughing so hard. "Orphan or not, what does it really matter? We're all going to the same place, aren't we? And you're a brainless moron if you think we're actually earning wages. Anyone who sends their kid to a factory is either selling them or getting rid of a useless runt."

"That isn't true!" The squeaky boy piped up, his voice even shriller with indignation. "My mam didn't want me to go but she was ill and my sisters were all starving so –"

"So you decided to abandon ship and make a living, all on your own. Whoop-dee-doo, buddy, that's really –"

The van stopped abruptly, sending some of the boys pitching forward onto all fours. Mako managed to keep steady by leaning back on the side of the van, holding Bolin close to his side. By this time, Mako's eyes had adjusted somewhat to darkness and he could just make out the silhouette of four other boys. Suddenly, the engine stopped humming.

Outside, the sound of noisy whistles, the shouts of workers, and the whining of vehicles could be heard. Again, Mako heard the sound of a car door opening and slamming, the crunch of gravel as the driver made his way around the van to the back where six boys were huddled. Thinking fast, he gently pushed Bolin behind him and faced the back doors, ready to strike.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said the boy closest to Mako in a nonchalant manner. Evidently, he could see quite well in the dark. "I heard the manager is a nasty one. If you do anything stupid, he might just cut off your brother's fingers…"

Mako quickly dropped his stance just before the doors were pulled open. The driver, his doughy face shiny with grease and persperation, leered in at the group of boys, his green eyes lingering on Mako who was the closest.

The driver stood back so that they had a clear view of a spacious yard where workers were bustling about: some were pushing wheelbarrows of overflowing with coal; some were moving steel I-beams in groups; and still others moved in and out of several large warehouses that lined the yard. In the background, an enormous smokestack was puffing thick clouds of smoke high into the air, obscuring the pale blue sky.

"Boys," the driver barked, sweeping an arm impressively at the yard. "Welcome to Future Industries!"

* * *

**...**

* * *

The sun had set hours ago. The docks were empty; the boats all resting peacefully until daylight when they would set sail again. Everyone was asleep: captains, crew members, stewards, fishermen. Well, almost everyone.

A resounding bang echoed around the empty docks as a tall man was shoved face forward into the edge his rowboat. His forehead split open: blood poured down his face, stained the side of his boat, and dribbled all over the wooden planks of the dock. He cried out in pain, falling to his knees as he clutched his bleeding forehead, his moss-green fishing hat lying crumpled at his feet.

"Tell me where they are," said a chilling female voice.

A woman stood over him, half his size and yet her expression spoke of a lifetime of experience regarding authority, pain, and cruelty. Behind her, two men were keeping a lookout, making sure that random passersby did not notice the fisherman or the woman. The two men wore the same jacket as the woman except she did not have her hood pulled up. Her long brunette hair was tied back in ponytail, swishing gently in the ocean breeze.

"P-please…" The fisherman moaned, gasping for breath. "I – I don't know about any Spec, I don't –"

He was wrenched upright by the woman with surprising force. They were now face to face, her cold gray eyes staring into his fearful brown ones. The fisherman felt something hot at the base of his neck and realized that the woman was holding a flame to his Adam's apple.

"Answer correctly and I won't melt your face off," she hissed, her lips barely moving. "Two boys: six and eight years old. One's an Earthbender Spec."

"W-wait!" cried the fisherman as the scalding flame grazed his throat. "The – the little boys, yes, I remember them!"

"When?"

"S-saw them this morning and I.. I sold them to a factory recruiter! He was buying children for labor and he took them!"

"Which factory?"

The man gasped as her fingers circled his neck, the heat intensifying dangerously.

"I don't know!" he yelped, close to tears. "Please! I don't know which one! He was just a regular recruiter! But it was one of those big factories, ones that need a lot of labor – Cabbage Corp or… or… Future Industries!"

She let him go. The fisherman's legs gave way and he crumpled to the ground, weeping silently.

"Th-thank you…" he murmured, relief washing over him.

But he spoke too soon. Before he knew what was happening, a white streak of light hit him in squarely in the chest. He was blasted backwards into the water, still twitching when he resurfaced a while later. Even in the dark, a gaping wound was visible where the lightning had struck. He was dead.

Ona signaled for her men to follow her. They did so obediently, not once looking back at the corpse floating in the waves.

"Where should we start, Lieutenant?" asked the man to her right.

"Alert our spies – figure out where the Spec and his brother were taken," instructed Ona. They reached three black motorcycles parked discreetly behind a brick building. Mounting her own vehicle, she continued, "Once we figure out their location, we round up a team and extract them. Rendezvous at headquarters in an hour, got it?"

The two men nodded, revved their bikes and sped away down the empty streets. A few seconds later, Ona followed suit, racing away in the opposite direction. The wind slapped her face as she accelerated, feeling the rush of adrenaline.

With this new lead, it was only a matter of time. The Hunter in her purred, smelling blood.

* * *

******To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: I'd like to clear up a few things about the previous chapter. First off, Hunters don't kill Specs, only capture them. Secondly, the Avatar is considered the rarest Spec since there can only be one Avatar at any given time. Also, someone asked about a possible time-skip in future chapters. Yes, there will be a time-skip later on but that won't happen for several chapters.

Thanks for reading everyone, you guys are awesome! Feel free to give feedback or ask questions :D


	5. Memories

**A/N**: I **rewrote** this chapter because I wasn't satisfied with how it turned out. I apologize for the sudden change but I do think this is much _much_ better. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Chapter Five: Memories**

* * *

Mako was six years old.

"Come on, Bo, we gotta go home!"

They were playing in the park and the sun was starting to set; the only other people were a harried looking mother who was coaxing her wailing son away from the edge of the pond. A paper sailboat was drifting slowly away on the pond's surface, too far for either mother or son to reach.

Bolin was scratching something in the mud, careless of the setting sun and his brother's calls. Mako watched as the mother finally pulled her crying child away, leaving the park before his tantrum could attract more attention. If they didn't get home before dark, their mother would undoubtedly be furious.

"Bolin, we need to go now."

Mako pulled his little brother's arm but Bolin wouldn't budge.

"No, I wanna play more!" Bolin whined, struggling against Mako's grip. "Play mooore!"

Mako did not relinquish his grip and instead tugged harder. "Bo, I'm serious, we're leav–"

A sickening crunch. _Pain_. So much pain. Mako was lying on his side, his chest burning, aching – _bleeding_. His face was buried in the grass. No air; he couldn't breathe…

Mako must have blacked out because he came to a while later. He was lying in a bed, an unfamiliar bed, not his own. The room was cozy but smelled like disinfectant. Someone was sitting in the chair next to his bed. Mom.

"Sweetheart?" His mother raised her head, her bloodshot eyes widening at the sight of her son blinking back at her. "You're awake!"

Mako let her hug him but couldn't understand what was going on. Where was he? Why was his mother there, tear tracks staining her cheeks? And where was –

"Bo?" Mako called out, trying to peek over his mother's shoulder.

"Bolin's not here, baby, he's at home," his mother explained. She was a mess. Her usually neat hair was bristly and untidy. The dress she was wearing was one of the old ones she only ever wore around the house – never outside. All this and more confused Mako.

"Mom, where am I?"

"You're in the hospital, babe, but you're okay now. The healers said you were going to be fine."

"What happened?"

And this was when his mother did something strange. Her whole figure seemed to convulse, her expression twisting as though Mako had uttered a dirty swear word. She gripped his hand tightly – so tightly it hurt – and looked deep into his amber eyes, a searching look on her face.

"Do you… remember anything, sweetheart?" she asked tremulously. She looked like she was about to faint. Mako had never seen her like this before.

"I was playing with Bolin," he answered truthfully.

His mother nodded. "Yes… and then?"

"I…" Mako stared at his mother. She looked torn between apprehension and terror, watching him closely, fearfully. "I… I don't remember."

His mother broke into sobs but he knew it wasn't from despair. She was smiling; relieved and elated behind her tears, she embraced him, still crying.

"It was an accident, sweetie, an accident," she whispered, cradling his face in her hands. She pressed her lips to his forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there but you're okay now. You're okay."

"I'm okay," Mako repeated.

They stayed like that, just the two of them, mother and son, for what seemed like a very long time. Neither of them said anything as they sat holding each other. Mako closed his eyes, breathing in his mother's scent. It was then that he decided that he would never divulge the truth; the truth that he, Mako, remembered everything. Right before passing out, the puddle of mud had solidified, flown straight into his chest, and – as he would later learn – broke two of his ribs, puncturing his left lung.

It was a miracle he'd survived, a miracle that Bolin hadn't killed him.

* * *

**...**

* * *

It was dark when Mako woke up. Blinking slowly in the blackness, it was a while before he fully registered the rumble of noises, the rustling, snoring, and whimpering of young boys. He remembered where he was, and all that had happened the day before.

On the previous day, they had arrived in the yard. They were herded out, all six boys, and taken to a building separate from the main factory and warehouses. There they were lined up, covered in a strange white powder, and rinsed off with shower sprays so strong, it felt like tiny bullets were pummeling their skin. After the brutal rinse, the boys were told to change into their uniforms: a pair of ill-fitting industrial blue-gray workpants and long-sleeved shirt with the gear-shaped logo of Future Industries sewn onto the breast pocket. A barber stepped into cut their hair short and once that was taken care of, they were shepherded to the cafeteria where around sixty boys from ages four to sixteen were halfway through dinner. Mako and Bolin only managed to finish half their grayish gruel before a loud whistle blew, signaling everyone to bed.

"Lights out, you vermin!" was the last thing the brothers heard before they were plunged into darkness. It was very uncomfortable sleeping in the room where they had been placed with two dozen other kids. Instead of beds, they were given cots to sleep on with no pillows or blankets. As it was, the room – with only one ventilation shaft – was stiflingly hot and stuffy. Talking or bathroom breaks were absolutely forbidden which added to the difficulty of engaging in sleep.

As Mako lay awake, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, he felt Bolin slumbering next to him, his small chest rising and falling with every breath. Mako wondered if now was there chance, when everyone was in bed, to sneak out, to leave.

_But where?_

The prospect of having to steal dumplings for their meals, of sleeping on the street in the winter cold, of constantly keeping to the shadows was unwelcoming, even in this suffocating room full of snoring children. Perhaps it was better, however poorly they were treated, to hide among others like themselves; orphans, runaways – little boys.

At that moment, the door, which was locked during the night, flew open with a crash, startling some of the others awake.

"Rise and shine, you little rodents!" a nasty voice bellowed. The lights were switched on in the room, a torturous awakening for the sleeping boys. "Get up now or all of you will get a beating you won't forget!"

The boys started to stir. Bolin shifted, slowly getting up. Mako blinked in the bright light, trying to gather his bearings. Someone close to him nearly stepped on his face; he rolled away just in time. This was how Mako started his first morning at Future Industries.

* * *

**The South Pole**

* * *

The morning is _evil_.

This was what Korra learned on that fateful day at the crack of dawn, when her childish delight at leaving home evaporated, melting like a snowflake on the tip of a tongue. She would never forget.

The Agni Kais came at first light, attacking the congregation of White Lotus Elders and the sentries outside their house. They surrounded their humble igloo, the Firebenders blasting everything that opposed them: people, animals, and Korra's home. Emboldened by the rising sun, the Agni Kais rained fire upon the White Lotus who were outnumbered by a dozen.

While the battle outside raged on, Korra was inside, huddled in the kitchen with her mother and father, listening to the bloodthirsty cries and the screams of the fallen. Tonraq had tried to fight, to aid the White Lotus, but a female sentry had shoved him and his family back inside just as the fight broke out. At that very moment, she was stood guard outside in the living room, ready to fight anyone who entered.

And then it happened. The sound of door being knocked down – no, _blasted_ off its hinges – echoed through the house, through Korra's bones. She wanted to help, wanted to fight the horrible people who would dare intrude upon them but Senna kept her close, whispering soothing nothings into Korra's ear.

"Where are they?" the intruder thundered, addressing the lone sentry.

"Leave now and I shall spare your life!" It was the female sentry. Korra would remember those last words as the sound of courage, the voice of a true guardian.

A blast that sounded like a furnace exploding seemed to tear the igloo apart. There was no drawn-out scuffle or a cry of pain; just that one explosion, a thud as something hit the floor, and silence, total and utter silence.

Tonraq stood up, his face pale. Senna gasped inaudibly, trying to stop her husband.

"Tonraq," she whispered, grabbing his arm. "Please… you can't…"

But Tonraq freed himself from her grasp and slowly moved towards the door.

Suddenly aware of her mother's distress, Korra turned to Senna and asked, "Mommy, what's Daddy doing?"

But Senna did not answer. Instead, she pressed Korra's face to her chest, shielding her from what was to come. Tonraq looked back at his wife; their eyes met. No words were exchanged. Senna nodded. She watched him turn away, face the door –

"_EEEEEEUUURRGGHHH_ –"

An awful noise came from just behind the kitchen door, making Tonraq jump back in surprise. There was a last guttural moan and something slumped against the door and slid to the ground. Red liquid seeped beneath the door, pooling around the edge of the frame.

"Is anyone in there?" a voice called from outside. Someone knocked on the locked kitchen door. "It's over; you can come out now!"

"I recognize that voice," breathed Senna, her eyes widening. "It's… It's Chief Yokan!"

Tonraq opened the door but almost immediately closed it again, leaving just a crack open. Korra, now free of her mother's arms, was just about to run over when Tonraq motioned for her to stay back. His eyes were fixed on the ground as though observing something horrific on the other side of the door.

"My daughter and wife are safe inside," Tonraq said to the man on the other side. "I don't want them to see this."

"Of course," answered Chief Yokan. "I'm sorry it had to be so messy, but he was just about to blow down the door. It's a good thing my sword finished the job before anything happened."

Korra watched with extreme curiosity but her father did not budge from the door. Instead, he kept watching through the narrow crack as something on the other side of the door was dragged away. Tonraq motioned for Senna to come over and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, gulping slightly, and then gently told to Korra to cover her eyes. Reluctantly, she obeyed.

When she left the kitchen later in Senna's arms, her eyes shut tight as promised, Korra smelled something odd. As she passed through the house, she could smell smoke, burned meat, and the strong scent of copper or rust – something metallic she couldn't quite place.

Korra opened her eyes as soon as they were outside. The sun was now completely up, illuminating the destruction that lay waste in the snow. Senna tried to shield her daughter's face again but it was no use. Korra saw everything: the blackened snow, the injured sentries, the chunks of their igloo scattered everywhere like crushed diamonds. There were other men tending to the wounded, still other standing guard in furs, spears clutched tight in their hands. Korra recognized who they were: The Southern Water Tribe Warriors. Chief Yokan's men had stopped the fight.

"Mommy," Korra said, suddenly remembering something. She twisted in Senna's arms, looking around at the scene. "Where's that lady who came in with us?"

Her mother gave an involuntary shudder but smiled warmly at Korra. "It's okay, baby, there's nothing to worry about."

But as Senna carried her away, escorted by the Chief himself, Korra heard a snippet of the conversation between her father and the White Lotus Elder Gappak.

"Did she have any family?"

"Just her son, Howl…" Gappak's voice broke. "Ansha, that brave girl… I can't believe she's gone."

_Gone_.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Agni Kais were famous for their fierce fiery personalities as well as their actual firepower. Ironically, the higher up the chain of command, the colder Agni Kai became. At the peak of its hierarchy was its leader Zahrul who was famous for his merciless antics and cold fury.

"I – I'm sorry for failing you, sir. Please forgive me."

Zahrul was standing on the deck of a ship. They had set sail an hour previously right after the disastrous results of their mission to capture the one and true Spec: the Avatar. They had struck at the crack of dawn, the perfect time to catch those simpleton Water Tribe peasants off guard. In hindsight, a nighttime raid might have proved more efficient but Zahrul was cautious. Without the sun, the Agni Kai's powers were limited, a factor that might have crippled the operation all too easily. And yet, the mission had still failed.

Before him knelt the team leader of the mission, an athletic thirty-year-old man named Sho, whom Zahrul had handpicked himself, mumbling his apologies and begging for reprieve. As if apologies or forgiveness really mattered, as if it changed anything at all. They had lost the Avatar; another setback, another failure.

"Rise," said Zahrul. The Sho stood up, eyes fixed on his feet. "You did your part well, my brother. Although you did not succeed, you proved that you are capable of leading your men in and out of a fight. A true leader knows when to cut his losses and retreat."

He placed a paternal hand upon the Sho's shoulder and led him over to the deck's railing, overlooking the seas. The water was a crystalline blue, reflecting the brilliant sunlight.

"Look at the water below, my brother, is it not beautiful?" Zahrul asked.

"Very beautiful, sir," Sho answered.

"Yes, it is. And yet that beautiful water is what makes us weak. A Waterbender's will is lucid and fluid. A Firebender can also fall victim to that weakness, becoming soft and vulnerable."

Sho nodded, his eyes fixed on the rippling waves.

"But of course," Zahrul continued, "no one can survive without water, without flow. It teaches us to be flexible, allowing us to adapt and survive. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I suppose so, sir."

"Good."

Zahrul shoved him overboard. Screaming, Sho hit the water with a splash, breaking to the surface, gasping for breath.

"A true leader knows when to cut his losses," Zahrul repeated. "Try surviving that, why don't you?"

He walked away, the cries of the discharged team leader growing fainter. In the subzero temperatures of the freezing water, Sho would be dead within minutes. The last thing he would remember was not the frigid ocean, but the cold Firebender, leader of the Agni Kais.

* * *

******To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: So... is it better? Is it worse? The main problem I had with the previous version is that it felt flat to me. I hope I fixed that problem in this revised version.

By the way, the Satos are still going to be in the next chapter, just so you know. And, as I explained in the old version, Howl is based off of the White Lotus sentry who first appeared for about five seconds in the pilot episode of Legend of Korra. Fans dubbed him Howl (**H**ot **O**rder of **W**hite **L**otus guard) and the name stuck. You'll be seeing more of him later ;)

Feedback, suggestions, opinions are all welcome as always! Thank you so very much for reading :D


	6. That Sato Girl

**A/N**: What's up, you guys? I really appreciate the positive feedback I've been receiving on this story. Thank you all so much :3

* * *

**Chapter Six: That Sato Girl**

* * *

It was difficult to distinguish the boys from one another – all were dressed in the same blue-gray work clothes and had the same crew cut. They shuffled like one entity toward the cafeteria. The children were fed before the grown-up workers came in for duty so some kids were dozing off on their feet.

Mako and Bolin lined up with the other boys. The line moved at a snail's pace. When it was finally their turn, Mako was surprised to see his tray of food. Instead of the gruel he'd been expecting, the tray was laden with a simple yet wholesome breakfast. There was a small bowl of brown rice, two slices of pickled radish, and a square piece of fried fish. Judging by the astonished looks of the other children when Mako sat down at one of the long tables, this was equivalent to a three-course gourmet meal at Quong's Cuisine by the cafeteria's standard.

"Maybe they poisoned it," suggested a boy three seats to Mako's left. "There's no way they'd give us _real_ rice."

It seemed that most of the other boys were in agreement with this dark conspiracy, for though they salivated over the warm meal, no one dared touch any of it. They waited nervously, wondering who would be brave enough to take the first bite.

Just then, Bolin joined Mako at the table. No sooner had he applied bottom to chair than he started stuffing his cheeks with rice. Everyone at the table – including Mako – stared in astonishment. Before Mako could do more than gape, Bolin swallowed his mouthful and started on the fish, using his chopsticks with surprising dexterity. He did not faint, gag, or vomit.

"It's all right!" someone hissed. The news traveled along the entire cafeteria like wildfire, the clattering of spoons echoing all around as the boys started to dig into their breakfast.

Half an hour later, nearly every tray lay empty, the satiated children sitting contently or chatting idly while they waited for the bell to ring. Mako was engaged in a fork battle beneath the table with Bolin when one of the supervisors walked up to a small podium near the end of the room. The high-pitched screech of the microphone drew everyone's attention; all conversations ceased abruptly.

"All right, listen everybody!" said the supervisor into the microphone. "Once breakfast is over, you will not be heading to your workstations." An excitable chatter rose from the tables at this announcement before the supervisor continued, "We have some very special guests here today so all workers are to gather in the yard immediately to welcome our guests. That is all."

A babble of talk broke out. As Mako and Bolin joined the line to hand in their empty trays, they heard a scrawny boy in front of them talking to his friend.

"… so it's probably the Satos who're comin', I reckon."

"You serious?"

"'Course I'm serious! That's why they're giving us the good food isn't it?"

"Hope Asami comes. You know, the real pretty one."

"Don't get your hopes up, she wouldn't look twice at you."

"Mako, what's a 'saw me'?" asked Bolin.

"A what?" asked Mako.

"A 'saw me'," Bolin repeated.

It took a moment for Mako to figure out what his little brother was talking about.

"Oh, _Asami_," he said, finally understanding. "She's the Satos' daughter. Her family owns this factory."

"I wish I could have one."

Mako laughed. "What would you want with a factory?"

"Not a factory… a family."

They both fell silent. They were now at the front of line where the black conveyor belt moved the empty trays through a flap at the end of the strip. Bolin placed his on the conveyor belt, standing on the tips of his toes.

As the brothers followed the other boys outside into the yard – into the cold and the weak sunlight – Mako took his little brother's hand in his. Bolin was not crying; he didn't even look sad. But this – this resignation or acceptance or ignorance, whatever it was – hurt Mako more than tears or tantrums. It hurt him to see that his little brother – his _only_ brother – was being forced to be strong, to be brave.

"We _are_ a family, Bo," said Mako softly. He squeezed their linked fingers. "I'm not going anywhere… I promise."

* * *

**…**

* * *

Asami Sato sat in the back of the stretch limousine with her mother and father, staring outside the window with glazed eyes. She knew where they were headed, and was already dreading the prospect of having to sit still while her father delivered a rehearsed speech about his business and whatnot while a hundred different cameras flashed at once.

As the only child of one of the most successful entrepreneurs in Republic City and quite possibly the entire world (or so a famous magazine had claimed), Asami was no stranger to publicity. She still remembered the time when she had looked out the drawing room window to find a reporter hiding among the rose bushes in their garden (he was promptly ejected by the groundskeeper). However, Asami, though not quite a private person, disliked having to be noticed on the streets, to be ogled at, or whispered about. Her mother and father seemed to take it in stride but every time their family went outside, Asami always shied away from the flare of a camera lens, earning her yet another lecture about "proper public etiquette" by her mother.

"- listening to me, sweetie?"

"Hmm?" Asami raised her head. She had momentarily drifted off. Her mother was looking at her with a disapproving purse of her lips. Even when she was annoyed, Madoka Sato was stunningly beautiful.

"Asami, remember what I said about listening when someone speaks to you?"

"Yes," Asami mumbled, trying not to roll her eyes. This would only be the hundredth time her mother had mentioned it.

"I asked you whether you like your new dress. I had it specially made for this occasion, you know."

The dress in question was a simple yet elegant sleeveless ivory gown with a flowing A-line skirt, a clean bateau neckline slightly obscured by a string of pearls around Asami's neck. On the waist was a satin navy blue bow; it matched the color of her cropped jacket lined with real fur.

"It's okay," said Asami with far less enthusiasm than she would have shown had they been headed anywhere else.

Madoka sighed. "Sweetie, I know you don't like these public events," she said, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. "But do try to be happy for your father, he's worked very hard for this."

"I _am_ happy for Dad," Asami replied a little defensively.

"Then at least try to smile a little more, dear. People might think you were upset over his achievements."

To Madoka's right sat her husband, Hiroshi Sato, who was too immersed in his paper to join in on the discussion about dresses and the finer points of faking facial expressions. A portly man reaching forty, Hiroshi did not possess the chiseled countenance of a film actor but had a compassionate face, slightly graying hair parted in the middle, and a well-groomed toothbrush mustache. He was dressed formally in a black suit and bowtie; gold cufflinks glinted at his wrists.

"Hmm… there seems to have been some sort of odd business down at the harbor recently," he noted, turning a page.

Madoka leaned slightly closer. "Do you mean that fisherman who was –" she lowered her voice with a quick glance at Asami who was staring out the window again, " – _murdered_ by the docks?"

"Good gracious, how do you know?" Hiroshi enquired, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh, just this morning when I went to pick up the dresses. You know that lovely little boutique near the harbor? Madam Eri told me all about it."

"It must've been those triads again," said Hiroshi, closing his paper with a look of disgust. "Acting like they own the place – the nerve!"

The matter was discussed no further as the limousine came to a halt outside the gates of a large factory. A large sign affixed to the entrance announced: Future Industries Factory – Main Gate.

* * *

**…**

* * *

"… thank our brilliant, innovative engineers who helped to revolutionize the standard of the automobile industry by helping to create the Satomobile Model-3 which has made record sales –"

Ten minutes into the speech, and already Asami was trying not to squirm in chair. They were in the factory work yard which had been cleared to accommodate a raised podium and several rows of seats in the front where Asami sat with her mother. A couple of reporters were sitting in the row behind them, their pens scrawling feverishly across notepads. Farther back stood a crowd of workers, some of the senior employees wearing cheap suits, most wearing their blue-gray work uniforms. Everyone was facing the podium where Hiroshi stood, addressing his audience through a microphone.

"… seems like only yesterday that I, a poor lad with not a cent to my name, decided to embark on a journey that seemed both impossible and foolhardy at the time. And yet, I had the great fortune of meeting the generous man who gave me the loan to –"

"Mom," Asami whispered, tugging on her mother's arm. "I need to tell you something."

"Not now sweetheart," Madoka said quietly, careful to keep her smile intact. "Wait until this is over."

"But Mom," Asami said more urgently, "I feel really sick." This was not strictly true: though Asami was restless to get away from the congregation, especially the reporters and cameramen who would no doubt be blinding her with lens flares the second the speech ended, she felt physically fine. However, she felt no need to clarify the nature of her discomfort to her mother.

"Sweetheart, I can't leave right now, you're gonna have to wait –"

"I'll go wait in the car. Please, Mom."

"Young lady –"

"I promise I'll go quickly. No one will notice!"

Madoka sighed; an incredible feat considering that her smile never wavered once. "Okay, but go straight to the car and don't talk to anybody. I'll be there as soon as the speech is over."

Asami slid from her chair as surreptitiously as possible. Undercover of the audience's laughter at some amusing anecdote Hiroshi was delivering, Asami slipped away down the aisle, quickly passing the row of seats before anyone could do more than glance sideways at her. She was making her way towards the garage where all the visiting cars were parked when something caught her eye: two boys wearing blue-gray work uniforms were sneaking off behind a warehouse to the left.

She slowed to a halt, curiosity getting the better of her. Truth be told, she had not known until this day that children around her age actually worked in her father's factories. What was more, it was on the rare occasion that Asami got a chance to socialize with her kids her age. Most of the offspring of well-to-do families were of an older generation with grownup offspring if they had any at all. The few who were children bored Asami witless with their talk of dolls and parties and whatnot.

'This might be the last chance I get to see _real_ kids,' she thought to herself, still torn between following the two boys and redirecting herself to the garage. 'I'll just take a look and come straight back.'

Having convinced herself thus, Asami quickly rounded the corner of the warehouse. At first she was worried that the two boys had disappeared but this fear was soon eliminated when she saw a group of perhaps a dozen boys gathered just behind the warehouse near a large pit. Cautiously, she approached wondering what they were doing.

"Come on you spineless bastard, do it!" one of the boys shouted. The others laughed at this statement. Whatever they were looking at it, it was obscured by their backs. None of them noticed Asami approach.

"Ah, you do it, if you're so brave!" countered a squeaky voice.

A wooden plank was serving as a bridge across the square pit. Apparently, the boys had decided to make a game of it, daring others to cross to the other side without falling into the deep hole.

"Hey, who's that?"

The boys turned in unison to looked at Asami who frozen on the spot. For a moment, they stared at her, and she stared back. Both sides were children and yet they could not appear more different: Asami, with her expensive dress and jacket; the boys with their identical crew cuts and dirty work clothes.

"Ah, it's that Sato girl," one of the boys sneered, leveling her with an unfriendly glare. "I bet she's off to play with her little dolls in her fancy get up."

The dozen or so boys sniggered, preening themselves in invisible mirrors and pretending to flip imaginary locks of luscious hair. Some of them made ludicrous faces at her, jeering at her expensive clothes.

"Hey!" Asami shouted, angered by their taunts. "What do you know anything about me? I bet none of you cowards could beat me in a fair fight!"

The snickers and jeering turned to looks of shock, scowls and muttering. An enormous boy with a neck as thick as Asami's waist came lurching forward from the group, his mouth contorted in a twisted smirk. A thin scar ran from his left temple down to just below his earlobe.

"You think you're tough?" he taunted in a gravelly voice. "Wouldn't want you to go crying to mama."

Asami didn't reply but merely shifted her stance to a fighting position, her hands out in front. With three years of special defense classes under her belt, she was not about to let some bullying creep get the best of her – even if she did ruin her new dress. A couple of the boys seemed to recognize that she was serious while others merely laughed.

"Wait –" The boy who had first identified her stepped forward, a hand outstretched to keep the thuggish boy back.

To Asami's surprise, the larger boy backed down at once, much like a mongrel obeying its master. The smaller boy had a shrewd look about him, a cruel streak in his hard brown eyes that somehow made his thin face more intimidating than the brutish bully. Above his breast pocket, the number '6' was written in ink.

"We're not gonna hit a girl," Number 6 said.

The other boys nodded but some looking sour at the lost chance of watching a fistfight. Number 6 continued, "But we'll settle this in a different way." He smirked at Asami. "What do you say to a bet?"

"What kind of bet?" she spat back, despising everything about him.

"Oh, it's simple." He pointed at the pit and the plank stretched across it. "If you can cross that hole without falling, you win and we all have to beg for forgiveness. But if you chicken out–" the smirk was now more pronounced than ever, "- you lose and you have to grant us each one wish."

At these words, a collective outburst of laughter rang through the air, knowing looks passing between some of the older boys. It was obvious that all of them expected Asami to back down or argue the terms of the challenge. They could not be farther from the truth.

"You're on!" she declared, silencing them all at once.

The thickset boy crackled his knuckles menacingly, perhaps annoyed at her insolence but Number 6 simply narrowed his eyes before ordering the others to make way for the contender. Asami stepped forward, a savage recklessness overtaking her.

She would prove them wrong, all of them – not just these boys but those people who judged her by the picture in the paper, who whispered about her behind her back and made cruel jealous remarks about her family. She'd show them all.

The boys split into two groups: one on Asami's side of the bridge and the others on the opposite end. Number 6 was standing on the other end, watching her every move like a two-headed viper-rat observing its prey. Even from a distance, his smirk was visible.

"Whenever you're ready!" He called out mockingly.

The pit was about six meters across, the plank just wide enough for someone to stand on with one foot directly behind the other. Asami was silently relieved that she was wearing her boots instead of one of her toe-pinching heels her mother favored so much. Looking down, her stomach tightened: it was clearly a good four meters deep. If she fell, she could easily break her leg. But there was no turning back: Asami would rather have broken bones than endure the humiliation of bowing down to these boys.

'_Here goes nothing_,' she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath of cold air, Asami took her first step across the bridge.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: According to Bill Rinaldi who worked on Legend of Korra, Asami Sato is somewhere between the age of 18 and 23 during Book 1: Air. I like to think Asami is older than the rest of the Krew (aka Team Avatar 2.0) which explains why she's so mature throughout the first season. In this AU, she's three years old than Mako, making her 11 years old in this chapter.

On a side note, child labor laws have not been implemented in Republic City yet (at least in this AU). That means Hiroshi Sato is technically not breaking the law. I just wanted to mention that in case anyone thought he was running an illegal slave trade in his factory.

Thanks for reading! As always, I welcome feedback, comments, suggestions, etc. I'll be updating as soon as possible :D


	7. Dirty Wager

**A/N**: Hey! A special thanks to all those fabulous reviewers who kindly took the time to tell me what they thought about this story. And to those who've read this story, thank you to you guys as well!

On a side note:

OMG. Did you see those pictures from Comic Con 2012? I cannot wait for Book 2, I literally can't. This is too much...

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Dirty Wager**

* * *

" – and that'll be the last question for today. Thank you all for coming!"

Applause erupted from the audience along with multiple flashes of cameras. Hiroshi stood on the podium as Madoka came up to congratulate him with a kiss on the cheek.

"You were wonderful, dear," she said, smiling radiantly. Hiroshi hugged her in reply, inhaling the scent of her flowery perfume.

"All thanks to you, my dear," Hiroshi said. "Couldn't have done it without all those rehearsals you put me through… Uh –" he looked around, confused. "- wasn't Asami with you?"

"She said she felt ill so I sent her to wait in the limousine," answered Madoka.

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"No, no dear, it's probably one of her usual fibs – you know how much she dislikes publicity events." Madoka checked her silver wristwatch before adding, "We should get going too. We'll be late for our lunch date with the staff."

Arm in arm, the Satos walked through the congregation of friends, business partners and journalists, exchanging brief remarks about the speech and stopping for a couple of snapshots.

"Excellent speech, Mr. Sato, sir!" called out a middle-aged worker sycophantically as Hiroshi passed the crowd of children dressed in blue-gray uniforms. "Really top-notch!"

"I've never seen so many child laborers in one of our factories," remarked Madoka as they passed the group of children who ranged from six to twelve years of age. "It makes you wonder where they find all these orphans."

"Don't mind it, dear, we're helping the little ones get a head start in life," replied Hiroshi.

They were now almost at the garage. Next to it was another warehouse, and it was as they were passing this warehouse that they heard it: the terrified, shrill scream of a young girl.

Madoka turned paper-white, her eyes widening in shock. She turned to her husband who looked equally distressed.

"Asami!" they cried out in unison.

Both Satos, Madoka in the lead, wheeled around. Madoka made an unladylike dash around the back of the warehouse, straining her ears for the source of the cry. She didn't have to look far. Just behind the warehouse was a pit with a wooden beam lying across it. At one end of this makeshift bridge lay two children, one collapsed on top of the other.

"Asami!" Madoka shrieked, hurrying to her daughter's side. She pulled Asami out from underneath a boy clad in blue-gray workclothes.

Asami was sobbing hysterically, her clothes stained with dirt, and the skirt of her brand-new ivory dress torn down the side, right down to the hem. To Madoka's utter shock, a trickle of blood was running down Asami's leg.

"Darling, what – What happened?"

But Asami seemed beyond words. She clung to her mother's dress, even though she knew Madoka hated ruining her clothes. But her mother held her tight, rocking soothingly back and forth.

Meanwhile, the worker boy was slowly coming to, rubbing his arm gingerly as he got up. He pulled back the sleeve, revealing fingernail marks along his right arm.

"What's going on?"

"What happened?"

"Is that Asami?"

Hiroshi had arrived with several other people, all of them with shocked looks on their faces. They all huddled around Madoka and Asami, completely ignoring the boy sitting just a few feet away.

"What happened, Madoka?" asked Hiroshi, unable to get a word out of his daughter. "How did it happen."

At first Madoka seemed too dazed to speak. But then she looked up at her husband, as though noticing him for the first time since he had arrived, and lifted a finger in the boy's direction.

"Him." Her voice was hollow and hoarse. "That boy… was… with… A-Asami…"

Everyone went silent, all eyes turning to the boy. The boy stared back with golden eyes, clearly confused at the sudden onslaught of suspicious glares.

Perhaps a whole minute passed in muted awkwardness, the only sound the muffled sobs from Asami. And then –

"You dirty bastard!" Someone darted forward and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck, pinning him to the ground. It was the supervisor in charge of the child laborers. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I-I just –"

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!" roared the supervisor, spraying the boy with spittle.

"Mako," choked the boy.

Mako didn't have time to say anything else. He was backhanded so hard across the face that he was sure his neck had snapped from the force.

"YOU LITTLE –"

"S-stop!"

It took a minute for Mako to realize that he hadn't spoken aloud, hadn't voiced the thought he knew would go unheeded by the ruthless supervisor. But then, the man did stop, and it gave Mako's brain time to process who had cried out in his defense.

"Please stop!" Asami continued, wiping her tear-tracked face with her hand. "He saved me!"

"What do you mean, darling, what happened?" Hiroshi asked, surprised at her unexpected outburst.

"I- I fell into that pit over there," said Asami, pointing at the rectangular hole. "And… that boy helped me get back up."

The supervisor seemed flustered, looking from Asami to Mako then back again. He seemed to be torn between the desire to cause the boy bodily harm, and listening to the girl's story.

"Then how did you rip your dress?" asked Hiroshi bemused, "and… and this blood –"

Asami managed to extricate herself from her mother's arms and – with everyone watching – hitched up her torn skirt to her knees. Her left knee was badly scraped, blood trickling from the wound down to her ankles.

"When I fell, I scraped my knee on that bridge," she explained to the astonished adults around her. "And my dress got ripped when he – Mako – was helping me back up. He had to grab my dress because I had trouble swinging my leg over the edge and climbing back up."

"What were you doing here anyway?" joined in Madoka, the color now returning to her cheeks as well as her voice. "You said you were going to the car."

"I was…" answered Asami sheepishly, straightening out her skirt. "I just… got lost on the way…" she trailed off feebly with one glance at her mother's disapproving glare.

Silence followed this revelation. Mako lay on the ground, panting. The supervisor had released him during Asami's explanation, and was distancing himself from the fact that he'd assaulted an innocent child.

Hiroshi cleared his throat. "Well, if that's the case, I think we're done here for today." He turned to the others and gestured for them to leave. He helped his wife and daughter up and quietly told them to go get her wounds tended to. Once everyone had departed, Hiroshi turned to Mako.

"My dear boy, I must thank you for saving my daughter. Quite brave of you."

"It was nothing," Mako mumbled. He dusted himself off as he rose to his feet.

"You name's Mako, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"How old are you, son?"

_Son._ Mako felt a little prick in his heart at the word. "I'm eight years old, sir," he answered awkwardly.

"Hmm… and your parents?"

"Dead, sir. It's just me here with my younger brother."

Hiroshi nodded thoughtfully as though Mako had said something worth contemplating with the utmost care.

"I see… well, I do like to reward courageous young men such as you," said Hiroshi after a while. "It would be my pleasure if you and your brother were to join me and my family for a spot of lunch."

Hiroshi took from his breast pocket a beautifully crafted pocket watch which swung from a splendid gold chain.

"Ah, I'm late for that other lunch date anyways so why don't we just head straight to my house."

"I don't think –"

"I'll speak to the manager about your leave of absence," said Hiroshi, sensing Mako's protests. "Don't worry about that. Meanwhile, you should find your brother and meet me at the front gate. I'll be seeing you soon."

And, with yet another avuncular smile, Hiroshi left, leaving Mako quite bewildered at the turn of events.

"Is he gone?" a small voice spoke behind him.

Bolin came out from his hiding place behind a parked dump truck. He scurried out into the open and hugged Mako.

"We're okay, Bo," said Mako, a grin spreading across his face. "At least… we're not in trouble."

* * *

**.**

* * *

Asami was silent throughout Madoka's incessant tirade. It was the worst one yet but Asami could hardly complain. Looking back, she felt incredibly stupid for having played into Number 6's ploy, actually accepting the challenge when he played about as fair as a dirty oil rig. She also felt foolish when – just a foot away from victory – she'd looked Number 6 straight in the eye. He had stood at the end of the bridge, meeting her fierce gaze without flinching.

"_Guess we know who's gonna win this one," she said, goading him._

_Number 6's frown twisted into a smirk. "Yep, I guess we do." He reached out and shoved her sideways, still smirking as she fell, screaming._

"I'm completely disappointed in you!" said Madoka for the umpteenth time. "When we get home, you're grounded! Forever!"

Fuming, Madoka leaned back in her seat. They were headed back to the Sato Mansion, Asami's leg now fully mended thanks to a visit to the best Healer in the city. Hiroshi was not there with them, having arranged to meet up with them at the mansion after settling some matters with the factory manager.

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Asami timidly after what seemed like an hour went by in absolute silence.

"Is _who_ going to be okay?" sighed Madoka, her pent-up anger deflating at the sight of her daughter's worried face.

"That boy – Mako. The one who saved me."

"You're father said he'd take care of it," answered Madoka. Then, after careful scrutiny of Asami's expression she added, "Did you know him? Before he helped you, I mean."

Asami shook her head. "He was just… passing by."

"You should count yourself lucky someone was there," said Madoka. "I don't ever want you wandering off again, all right?

"Okay."

Instead, Asami let her mind wander, reliving the moment – the heart stopping terror – of the fall.

_She felt a stinging pain in her leg as she scraped her knee against the wooden beam, catching onto the edge with both hands. She was right next to edge of the pit, the walls rubbing against her shoulder. But her arms were already aching and she doubted she could move her hands without plummeting to the bottom._

"_Help!" she cried out, reaching up to the boys who were staring down at her. "Please!"_

_But then Number 6 shouted: "Let's get outta here! If they find us, we're all dead!"_

_The boys fled, leaving her literally hanging for dear life. She tried to hoist herself up, kicking the air but it only served to tire her. She was going to slip –_

"_Hold on!" It was one of the worker boys, one she hadn't noticed before. His golden eyes were squinting, his teeth clenched with the effort of holding onto her right arm._

"_Try… to kick… your leg… Over the edge!" he said through gritted teeth._

_She did as she was told. Clawing, grabbing, kicking, the two of them worked together until she was finally back on the ground, panting and sobbing with tears. Exhausted, they both collapsed on the ground, the boy landing on top of her, out of breath._

"_Bo…" he wheezed while Asami sobbed beneath him. "Bo… go hide…"_

_There was someone next to them, a very young boy by the sound of his voice, who argued, "But what about you?"_

"_I'll be… okay… _go_…"_

_No sooner had the other boy left, Mako fainted, his face buried in Asami's shoulder._

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N:** So, I get the feeling someone might ask what Mako and Bolin were doing there when Asami fell. Well, they were dragged along by the other boys who wanted to have some fun with the pit which was being used for some sort of construction work. Basically, the brothers were there the whole time and Mako jumped to the rescue when Number 6 shoved her. As an interesting note, the number "6" is considered to be an unlucky number in some Chinese cultures.

According to _Wikipedia_:"Six in Cantonese which has a similar pronunciation to that of "lok6" (落, meaning "to drop, fall, or decline") may form unlucky combinations."

Also, at Comic Con 2012, it was basically confirmed that Asami is 18 years old (check the panel video on Youtube). But this story is going to keep the older age for Asami for continuity reasons.

Thanks for reading everyone! You guys are all awesome and I hope to see you soon with an update. Bye~


	8. The Invitation

**A/N:** Legend of KorraBook 2: Spirits has been confirmed along with Book 3 and Book 4. We're in it for the long haul, guys! I can't wait for 2013! In the meantime, enjoy this latest chapter~~~

* * *

**Chapter Eight: The Invitation**

* * *

_Mommy, what's a Spec?_

_Where'd you hear that, sweetheart?_

_Mr. Goja said so._

_You heard our neighbor saying "Spec"?_

_No… he called me a Spec._

Perhaps that was the beginning. Bolin couldn't quite recall. As far back as he could remember, he had known he was special; just didn't realize what that meant. And now, after sleeping on the streets, working in a factory and riding a limousine, he still wasn't sure what it meant. Why was all this happening? He couldn't ask Mako. His older brother got really stiff when the subject of Specs were brought up. Bolin stopped asking questions after that. He just assumed that whatever happened, it had something to do with his being a Spec.

The limousine they were sitting in drove through a set of tall, iron gates. Up along a winding road, a magnificent mansion was visible. Constructed with white marble and decorated with real glass windows. The estate itself was so huge that the drive up to the main house alone took at least ten minutes. When the limousine finally came to a stop outside the mansion doors, the brothers piled out behind Hiroshi Sato.

"Boys, welcome to my home!" Hiroshi announced.

Mako and Bolin could do little but stare in awe.

* * *

**.**

* * *

Bolin still remembered his mother's cooking, how she'd always make his favorite dishes with utmost care. Sometimes she'd indulge him with extra helpings even though he'd already eaten his fill, saying that he was a growing boy who needed nourishment. He missed her more than ever.

But sometimes, food – and lots of it – could ease the pain, even if it wasn't his mother's cooking. Right now, for example, he was digging into a mouthwatering dish of poached salmon in between mouthfuls of roast beef, grilled shrimp, bite-size sandwiches, seafood pasta, and a couple of other dishes he couldn't name but which tasted delightful all the same. It was easily the best meal he'd had in the last few days.

"Well, I don't think I've ever met anyone with such a large appetite!" chuckled Hiroshi Sato who was observing from the adjacent seat. "But you should slow down, my boy, too much good food could hurt you, you know."

Bolin nodded hastily but otherwise ignored his host's advice as he continued to eat. To his left sat Mako who was eating just as hungrily as his younger brother but with more composure. Asami was absent as she was taking her meals in her room due to her injuries and Madoka had excused herself after only a few dainty morsels of fruit salad.

"That's what I like to see in a young man: a good appetite," continued Hiroshi genially, watching Bolin slop some food down his front. "Careful now!" Hiroshi leaned forward to wipe Bolin's chin with a monogrammed napkin.

Bolin grinned up at Hiroshi. They were sitting in the dining hall of the Sato Manor, a gigantic mansion of breathtaking dimensions from the outside and equally magnificent from the inside. The best part was the feast that Hiroshi had referred to as "a spot of lunch" before escorting both brothers inside the front door. With a full stomach, Bolin's shining green eyes reflected the glittering crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

"Bolin – do you mind my asking something?" Hiroshi asked, smiling gently down at the small boy. Bolin nodded, his head bobbing up and down. "It seems a bit presumptuous of me but – just out of curiosity – are you an Earthbender?"

"Yeah!" answered Bolin with enthusiasm.

"_Sir_," whispered Mako.

"Huh?"

"You're supposed to add 'sir'."

Bolin looked confused but Hiroshi came to his rescue with a chuckle. "No need for such formalities, boys! Just call me Hiroshi, everyone does."

Mako looked slightly uncomfortable with this suggestion and immediately took a long drink from his cup of tea but Bolin answered, "Are you a bender, Hiroshi?"

"No, my boy, I'm just a regular old non-bender," replied Hiroshi with a wink. "But I dare say that's neither here nor there. We're all people you know, whatever our innate abilities. It's just that some people think – well… they like to think it makes all the difference. In fact, some of them even differentiate between the same benders, if you'll believe it."

Mako squirmed slightly but Bolin merely grinned and said, "I like your mustache!"

Hiroshi smoothed his mustache in an exaggeratedly flamboyant manner which elicited hysteric giggles from both Mako and Bolin.

"Boys," said Hiroshi as though a sudden thought had struck him, "I was wondering – how would you like to spend the night here?"

"That's very kind of you, sir, but –" Mako began, but he was immediately interrupted by Bolin's shrill cheering.

"Yay!" he cried, jumping up and down on his seat. "Sleepover!"

"It would mean a lot," added Hiroshi in a conspiratorial whisper as Mako opened his mouth to speak. "You did save my daughter after all, and the truth is," he leaned closer to both brothers, "Asami could use the company of other children, you know. I'm afraid to say she's somewhat of a loner, is our lovely girl." He looked imploringly at Mako. "What do you say?"

Both Hiroshi and Bolin stared fixedly at Mako who had just been about to decline the offer mere seconds ago. He hesitated at the looks on their faces and then finally sighed in resignation.

"Okay… I guess," Mako mumbled.

"Splendid!" Hiroshi said, clapping his hands together. "I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay here – we do love having guests!"

For some reason – even as an overjoyed Bolin bounced happily on his chair – Mako couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Was this real, he wondered, or were they about to experience – and not for the first time – a rude awakening?

"It's only for one night but think of it as a paid vacation," said Hiroshi as though he had read Mako's mind. "I'm sure you agree that once in a while, a healthy person needs some decent rest and relaxation. Personally, overwork is not my style. More tea?"

* * *

**...**

* * *

A teenage girl ran for her life the alley in the dead of night. She was a beautiful thing: long dark lashes, silky brunette hair braided down her back, a slender figure and hypnotizing blue irises. Right now, those blue eyes were full of fear. She ran harder and harder, her lungs burning, her muscles screaming –

A dead end. She nearly ran headlong into a brick wall. Skidding to a halt, she clawed at it but it was no use, too high for her to climb. Panicked, she turned around, attempting to backtrack. She was to late: out of the pitch black gloom – they came.

"What's the hurry?" asked a woman's voice.

The girl knew that voice, loathed it, and dreaded it. Tears sprung to her eyes and terror gripped her, constricting her throat. Her darkest nightmares, the ones from which she awoke to the sound of her own desperate screams, were coming true.

The woman was at the front, not very tall but emanating a certain power, authority. She was dressed like all the others in a black jacket with her hood up. She had a slight figure but her piercing gray eyes seemed to leer from beneath the hood, like the eyes of a vicious beast. The two men flanking the woman stood a little ways behind this woman, silent and obedient to her every command.

"P-please…" begged the girl, shaking uncontrollably. "I – I'll do anything, please don't take me!"

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. If the three hooded figures even heard her, they did not acknowledge it. After a few seconds that felt like hours to the blue-eyed girl, the woman again spoke, this time, in a soft, silky voice.

"We won't hurt you," she said, her voice strangely soothing. The girl was now crying freely, sinking to her knees on the ground. "No, we would never hurt someone as_ special_ as you. Come with us quietly, and I guarantee your life."

"Y-you've got the wrong p-person!" the girl cried hysterically, clinging to the wall behind her. "Please, listen to me! I'm not a Spec! I swear, I'm not! I'm just a normal W-waterbender –"

"An amusing story," quipped the woman. Her gray eyes were merciless and a cruel grin played around her lips. "You can lie to everyone, sweetheart, even your own parents. But you can't fool yourself and you can't fool us."

The girl screamed in fright as the two men darted forward, dragging her upright and pinning her against the alley wall. She writhed and shrieked, the sounds echoing in the night. But the night was empty and no one – not a single living being – was going to come and save her.

The woman approached, her sleek ponytail swishing behind her. The girl tried to silence herself, nearly choking with the effort. Tears tracked down her cheeks and she turned her face away as the woman drew nearer, her gray eyes boring into her.

"There, there," cooed the woman, gently stroking the girl's cheek. "It's okay now…" She leaned in, her lips barely an inch from the girl's ear. "Are you ready to come with us?"

Hiccupping slightly, the girl managed to force herself to meet the woman's gaze. It was like being doused with icy water – such was the coldness in those steel gray eyes.

"I… I'm not a Spec," the girl repeated, her voice barely audible.

"Not a Spec, are you?" said the woman, her head tilting to one side thoughtfully. "Well, there's an easy way to find out."

She nodded at the two men who roughly turned the girl around so she was facing the wall. Then, with a loud ripping noise, one of them cut open the back of her dress, exposing her bare back. They held her firm as she struggled, trying to free her arms from their vice-like grip. It was useless.

"Hold her still," came the woman's voice and the girl saw the men standing back as far away from her as possible, their heads turned away.

"Wait!" the girl protested, her heart pounding so hard she felt it would burst. "Stop! I'm not –"

But she never got to finish the sentence. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the alley light up right before she felt her back being scorched off. Her screams were both inhuman and all too human as the fire ate up her skin, the woman unyielding as she seared the very flesh with her ruthless Firebending. It seemed to go on forever until the girl was half gone –

She fell to the ground, smoke rising from her charred flesh. Her breathing was shallow, the pain all-consuming. Death would have been referable at that moment but the woman had let her live –just barely. The girl thought she heard the three figures conversing. She slipped into unconsciousness.

"Give me the water," Ona said to one of the men.

He handed her a hipflask which she uncorked. She knelt down near the girl who was lying motionless but alive. Her backside was completely blackened, the charred flesh still smoking slightly. Ona upended the hipflask onto the burned area. The water pooled in the blackened wound. For a second nothing happened but then, as though the water particles were knitting the skin back together, the burn healed. The progress of the healing spread outward from the point the water touched the wound, momentarily leaving a luminous glow wherever the water touched. In less than a minute, the girl's backside was whole again, smooth skin replacing the spot where Ona's fire had ravaged the flesh black just minutes ago.

Ona gazed down at the young girl's pretty face and smirked inwardly. "I knew you had it in you," she whispered before getting to her feet again.

The two men bound the unconscious Spec's arms and feet before moving her. Ona followed behind them, keeping a close watch on the surrounding area. They were in the Dragon Flats District, a rundown nonbender neighborhood. Unfortunately for the Waterbender Spec, the residents living here would sooner feign death than come out to investigate the screams of a young girl in the middle of the night. A good deed or just simple curiosity could be the difference between life and death.

The group exited the alley and into a dimly lit square. The entire area was deserted save for a Satomobile that was waiting nearby. The driver came out to help the two men load the Spec into the trunk while Ona got into the back seat. She was not alone.

"How'd it go?" Ty Rhan asked her once she had shut the door.

Ona shrugged. "She struggled; we subdued her. The usual."

"Yes, and I must have been imagining those piteous shrieks," he replied, amused.

"She claimed to be a normal bender. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and make sure."

Ona heard the trunk slam shut behind them. The driver returned to the car while the other two men mounted their motorcycles, driving off ahead. The car engine roared to life; Ona and Ty Rhan were soon following the two motorcycles out of dilapidated neighborhood.

"Interesting catch we have tonight," Ty Rhan remarked, brushing a hand through his dark hair. "A Spec with the ability to instantly heal on contact with water. Very intriguing."

"Gee, I'm so excited," replied Ona sarcastically. "Any news?"

Ty Rhan leaned in closer to Ona. She did not move away but met his gaze with studied indifference and ill-disguised annoyance. She didn't like it when people invaded her private space and she was certain Ty Rhan knew this.

"As a matter of fact, there is. You're gonna enjoy this one, Ona," he whispered, his face very close to hers. He grinned. "We've found him. Him and his Firebender brother."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: I had a long discussion with my older sister a while back about the various Spec abilities I could use. It was hard at first because everything in the Avatarverse is so well established as it is. But I did like the idea of the instant-healing ability which was shown in this chapter. Basically, the idea is that this Waterbender Spec would be a very efficient fighter in rainy weather because of the auto-healing skill.

So anyways, Ona is hot on Bolin's trail now and things are really gonna get heated up in the next couple of chapters. Finally! XD


	9. Night of the Hunt

**A/N**: Sorry for the late update. I've been really busy with work so I haven't had much time to write. Thank you to all those who have kindly given me feedback, words of encouragement, or the simple courtesy of reading through this story. You're all awesome people!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Night of the Hunt**

* * *

It was about half past nine when the brothers, both tired yet exhilarated after a long day of play, returned to the guestroom where they were to spend the night. In the morning, a car was scheduled take them back to the factory. Neither brother was thinking about the morning, however. In fact, Bolin was still recounting their day while a handmaiden helped him into a pair of ivory silk pajamas.

"And when we went down the slide, I was like WHOOSH!" Bolin demonstrated by moving his hand downward in a steep arc, adding splashing sounds for maximum effect. "And then the cakes we got to eat were so good, I liked the chocolate one with the little berries on top and the one with cream and –"

Mako was already dressed in a pair of gold silk pajamas and was testing out the bed which was much too big for him. He enjoyed the light softness of the mattress, and buried his face in his pillow, filled with delight. After a long soak in the tub where both brothers were treated to a thorough scrubbing and a complete set of bath toys, Mako felt clean and rather sleepy.

"Good night, gentlemen," said the handmaiden before bowing out with her tray of hot towels. "Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

"Bye!" Bolin waved her goodbye, flapping the extra length of his too-long pajama sleeve. He then crawled into his own queen-sized bed, burrowing beneath the freshly laundered covers like a marsupial.

"G'night, Bo," yawned Mako as he turned off the lamps. His little brother did not answer, and a couple of seconds passed before he realized that Bolin was already asleep. Grinning, Mako pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his heavy lids.

* * *

**.**

* * *

Screams filled the air, echoing and reverberating around a dark, hollow dome where Mako lay, immobile and breathless. Thick smoke, acrid and pungent, stung his nose and seeped through his skin, blackening his insides. He felt sick.

"Mako!"

_Mom?_

He wanted to speak out, to call out to his mother, and to open his eyes and see her face, however terrified and distraught, one last time. But then he remembered, like a gunshot through his heart: an undeniable, gutwrenching truth; the only truth.

_They're dead, gone. _

"Mako!" The voice came again but he shut his eyes, willing the nightmare to end.

_They're dead! You'll never see them again! _

His eyes fluttered open. He wasn't sure whether he was dreaming or not: it was dark outside and he could have sworn the moon outside his window had abruptly changed position. Squinting, he thought he saw movement by the curtains and was about to get up and investigate when the voice spoke again.

"Don't get up, I'm right here."

Mako nearly jumped out of his skin. By the foot of his bed stood a young girl with long black hair, a shawl wrapped over her shoulders. Underneath, she was wearing a white silk nightgown.

"Asami?" Mako croaked, barely recognizing her in the weak moonlight. "What're you doing here?"

"I climbed down from my balcony, this room's right under mine," Asami explained calmly as though she were describing a simple walk down the hallway. "I've been doing it for years but I wanted to make sure the coast was clear before coming down."

"But I thought you couldn't get up because of your leg," said Mako, utterly confused. "That's why you couldn't play with us today, wasn't it? The butler told us –"

Asami waved a hand with a scoff. "Of course, they'd say that," she said bitterly. "I'm grounded for… for wandering off today. My mother said I needed to stay out of trouble and even had the meals brought to my own room."

"Oh." It was all Mako could say. They were silent for a while, the only other sound being Bolin's gentle snoozing.

"I didn't know you had a brother," remarked Asami, glancing over at the other bed. "My mother didn't mention anyone else. I only found out because one of the maids was complaining about how much Bolin ate."

"Yeah, well, he just tagged along at the last minute," said Mako awkwardly, wondering if Bolin's presence somehow offended Asami in any way. "Uh… do you have any siblings?"

Asami shook her head. "No. That's why I was disappointed when I wasn't allowed to play with you two today. I heard you're leaving tomorrow and this might be my last chance."

"Maybe we could visit later," Mako suggested half-heartedly, knowing there was little chance of leaving the factory once they returned next morning. "Or you could visit us."

"Yeah, maybe," replied Asami doubtfully. She came around to the side of the bed and perched herself on the edge, a little closer to Mako. He could now see her examining something in her hand. It glinted slightly in the moonlight.

"What's that?" Mako asked, pointing to the shiny object.

"Oh, I – um…" Asami looked away, fiddling with the shiny object. Even with the lack of light, Mako was sure that she was blushing. She continued, "I… I wanted to thank you for what you did this morning. For saving me, I mean."

It was Mako's turn to blush from embarrassment, and he was glad of the darkness. "That was nothing, you don't need to thank me for that," he mumbled, scratching his head distractedly.

"Well, I wanted to give you this, anyway," said Asami, and she handed him the shiny object. Mako took it without a word. "One of my dad's acquaintances got it for my last birthday party. It's supposed to be an antique, just for show, but it still works fine."

Mako examined the shiny object. It was a golden lighter with an insignia engraved on the side which Mako couldn't quite make out in the dark. The top half was a cap which could be flipped open. Inside was a small thumbwheel which was placed next to the windscreen chimney. He spun the little thumbwheel and a tiny ember appeared, illuminating the space around them. Mako could now clearly see Asami's face, pale and beautiful in the firelight, her silky dark hair gleaming.

"Thanks," said Mako, grinning at her. She grinned back, her green eyes shining. For a moment, he thought about mentioning the fact that he was a Firebender and could produce fire without her gift but thought better of it. "I'll keep it safe."

A few minutes later, both children were by the window. After hastily exchanged "good nights", Asami climbed onto the window sill and started pulling herself up a rope made of bedsheets hanging from the upper floor window. Mako turned away as she quickly scaled the outer wall of the mansion, the skirt of her nightgown fluttering a little in the wind. When he looked again, there was nothing but the dark sky outside and the glow of moonlight.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Hunters were bred, not born. It took a certain caliber to become someone who would do – could do – the things that Hunters did. A Hunter was soldier and civilian, defendant and judge. They were animals of justice, lords of prejudice. To the Hunters, a Spec was prey, but also a holy talisman, the ultimate prize.

Ona remembered from her early days of torturous training, the stories and legends told by Specs. Legend had it that the Hunters were shadows personified; a clan of Dark Spirits that escaped from beyond the mortal realm to punish those who were cursed by unnatural powers. Even then, Ona thought it was utter garbage, but she liked the idea of helpless Specs, so utterly terrified to believe such ludicrous stories, to think that Hunters were more dangerous that the Specs themselves.

"_O impenetrable fortress_," Ty Rhan whispered from beside her, peering through a pair of binoculars and looking out into the night. "_Tonight thou shall yield to the flames_."

"You really have to stop quoting crap on the job," said Ona irritably, her own set of binoculars pressed to the bridge of her nose.

"Just brushing up on my classics, Lieutenant."

They were both stationed just outside the gates of the Sato mansion. Perched atop the walls surrounding the estate, the two waited silently, awaiting the signal. Just below them lay two unconscious guards who were lying in a heap against the wall. Knocking them out had been fairly simple but Ona was restless for the others' signals.

"There!" Ona saw it first: a glow of fire lit up on the rooftop of the enormous mansion. Putting the binoculars back into a small pouch, she jumped down over the wall, landing lightly on her feet.

"I'll be waiting by the car, shall I?" Ty Rhan asked, peering down at Ona with a mischievous grin.

"Just remember the plan," Ona warned him before slipping away through the mansion's courtyard. The Spec, however elusive, was moments aware from judgment. It was the perfect night for a hunt.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Mako was awoken for the second time that night. Only this time, it wasn't Asami. There was crash of breaking glass. The first thing he saw was a claw-like grappling hook latched onto the window sill. The floor glittered with fragments of the shattered window. Before Mako could do much more than gasp, a hooded figure climbed into the room, glass crunching underfoot.

"BO! Wake up!" The words had barely left his lips when the hooded figure tackled him. Mako tried to evade the attack. Both of them rolled onto the floor in a heap, the hooded figure shoving Mako against the wall. Mako struggled but to no avail. All he could see was the floral pattern of the wallpaper in front of him.

Nearby, he heard the strangled yelp of a frightened boy. Bolin was awake and, judging by the sounds of footsteps, more people had entered through the window. The brothers were surrounded with nowhere to go.

Bolin cried out and something – probably the decorative vase of flowers on the night stand – exploded, spraying the room with shards of pottery, water, and flower petals. Someone yelped in pain as the second vase on Mako's sidetable burst as well. Mako ducked as a large shard hit the wall right above his head and bounced on to the floor. Just then, he felt an eerily familiar sensation. Tremors. The entire floor was shaking. One of the hooded men lost his balance and toppled over footstool. At the same time, the paintings on the wall dropped like stones, the wooden frames splintering as they hit the floor. The whole room shook violently, the tremors worsened -

Bolin screamed. The agony in his voice seemed to cut through the room like a physical force. All at once, the earthquake ceased. Mako craned his neck around, struggling against his captor's grip. A hooded figure was standing over the bed, holding a limp Bolin like a pathetic rag doll. He was quite still.

"Bo!" Mako shouted, wrenching free from his captor's grasp. His outburst was rewarded by a sharp slap to the face. The force of it knocked him down. He lay there, moaning with pain, his burning face buried in the carpet. The only thing he could see was the patch of carpet illuminated by the moonlight. Dark shapes moved around in the patch, while several voices muttered to each other as Mako tried to overcome the stinging pain.

"Take these two down to the main hall. The Lieutenant will be arriving any minute."

Mako felt someone lift him bodily from the ground. He was carried out of the room which was still dark but not empty. Muffled yells could be heard in other rooms. When they passed a door leading to the servant's quarters, Mako distinctly heard the tearful pleas of a woman begging for mercy.

Down the staircase they went. Each step tightened the knot in Mako's stomach. His face throbbed where the blow had landed but what was more painful was the erratic hammering of his heart, threatening to crack his ribs. The only thing he knew was that they were caught, and what was more, there was no escaping this time.

In the main hall, all the lights were off, the crystal chandeliers reflecting the moonlight streaming through the windows, most of which were smashed, the curtains hanging in miserable tatters on the floor. Everything was silent, the quiet seemingly reverberating throughout the vast hall.

A pair of double doors opened at the other end of the hall. Two adults wearing black bags over their heads were roughly shoved forward. Directly behind them came a smaller figure whose face was also hidden under a bag. She was wearing a white night gown. The Satos: prisoners in their own home.

"Round up the prisoners in the middle," a gruff man barked. The person holding Mako promptly dropped him onto the floor. He was soon joined by Madoka and Hiroshi who were shaking in their slippers. Asami was forced to kneel next to her parents by a brutish bald man who had removed his hood. His face was waxy white, his crooked nose sporting a single gold ring.

Mako sat up wearily, his heart pounding harder than ever. There were at least a dozen people surrounding them, all wearing black jackets with hoods. He watched as one of them came down the stairs, holding Bolin in his arms. With his eyes closed, he might have been peacefully asleep. Mako refused to believe the other possibility.

"Not that one!" snapped the bald man as the person holding Bolin approached Mako and the Satos. "Keep the Spec separated from the others. The Lieutenant will want to deal with him personally."

The man holding Bolin nodded and turned away. Mako caught a glimpse of his little brother's face. Tear-tracks were visible on his cheeks, shiny like a snail trail in the silver light of the moon. Mako couldn't bear to see him taken away like this, so easily by savage strangers.

"Wait, where are you taking him!" Mako shouted, getting to his feet as the man holding Bolin walked away.

"Shut up!" The bald man barked, leering at Mako with a vicious glare. "If you do not keep your tongue, I will make sure to rip it from your mouth!"

Mako sat back down. To his relief, the man holding Bolin did not leave the hall but stood off to the side. There was a tangible atmosphere of trepidation in the hall; even the bald man looked a bit nervous, his eyes darting around the room at the others, while flicking back and forth between the staircase and the two other entrances into the hall. They were waiting.

"Mako?" The tiniest of voices, barely above an audible breath, whispered behind Mako.

"Asami?" he whispered back, thankful for the darkness for it masked the movement of his lips.

A soft hand closed over his own. None of the others noticed. The bald man was still watching the entrances.

"I'm scared," Asami breathed. Mako wished he could look her in the eyes but there was no way of removing the bag over her head without drawing attention. Her shoulders shook slightly. "I.. I can't –"

"It's okay." Mako gently squeezed Asami's hand. He didn't believe what he was saying but he hoped she had more faith than he did. "It's okay…"

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	10. The Best of Us

**A/N**: Sorry for the lousy update speed. It's like 35 degrees Celsius where I live. I now know what baked potatoes feel like. It's no wonder they can't write fanfiction.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: The Best of Us**

* * *

The first time Mako saw her, he knew just one thing: that he both feared and revered her, hated her but was equally fascinated by her mere presence. He would later learn her name, her association with the Agni Kais and Hunters, and her deadly reputation. However, none of those things would ever frighten Mako as much as their first encounter, the things she did, the things she said. In later years, he was glad he was the one who saw it all, for it meant that he was the brother to bear the burden of the nightmares and terrors, and not Bolin.

"Do you have him?"

It was the first thing Ona said when she walked through the doors. She was short – much shorter than the rest of the hooded men – but commanded such a presence in the dark hall that she seemed to take up all the air in the room. The bald man who had told Mako to shut up pointed at the group in the middle of the floor. Mako felt frightened but tried to shield Asami as best as he could, not knowing what was to happen next.

Ona ordered the others to remove the bags from the Satos' heads. The orders were promptly carried out and the Sato family blinked in the gloom, the only source of light being the shafts of moonlight coming in through the tattered curtains. An icy winter draft was coming in through the smashed windows. Asami shuddered involuntarily. It had nothing to do with the cold.

Madoka and Hiroshi looked frightened. All three Satos had their hands bound behind their backs but their feet were free. Even so, it was clear that there was no way out. None of them would walk three steps before being subdued by an Agni Kai.

"Bring him here," Ona said. She stood in the line of the moonlight and Mako had a clear view of her face. He had never seen such gray eyes. They were like frozen knives: frigid and piercing. The bald man stepped forward. Mako instinctively moved back, assuming the man was going to grab him. However, the bald man circled around the group and seized Hiroshi by the collar of his silk pajamas.

"Wait! What're you doing!" Madoka struggled against her binding. She watched helplessly as her husband was roughly dragged to his feet and shoved along until he was standing in front of Ona. The bald man kicked Hiroshi behind the knee. Hiroshi grunted and kneeled before Ona. She stood quite still, observing the man in front of her like an interesting specimen while one of her subordinates cut the ropes binding his wrists.

"Hiroshi Sato?" It was clear she meant it as a confirmation statement rather than as a real question.

"That's correct," answered Hiroshi, and Mako couldn't help but feel admiration for the man who was staring his captor straight in the eye. "Take whatever you want but let my family go."

Ona just stared down at him, her gray eyes boring into the man's very soul, it seemed. Her long sleek pony tail waved slightly behind her as a gust of wind entered the hall through the broken windows. No one moved.

Hiroshi tried again. "If it's money you want, it's –"

Mako never got to hear the end of that sentence. Ona's boot slammed so hard into Hiroshi's face at such an alarming speed that it took a moment to register exactly what had happened. Hiroshi hit the floor clutching a shattered nose, blood pouring everywhere as he gasped in pain. Madoka let out a short scream. Beside her, Asami began to sob quietly. Meanwhile, Ona's expression of detachment never changed. She might have kicked a sack of flour.

Ona glanced at the bald man standing nearby. He immediately stepped forward and dragged Hiroshi into a sitting position.

"Where is it?" Ona's demeanor was eerily calm. No one could have guessed that this was the same person who had just brutally broken a man's nose without batting an eye.

Hiroshi was still holding his bleeding nose. He looked up at her with less courage than before. Still managing to maintain eye contact, he spoke in a nasally voice. "I don't know what your'e talking about."

This time, Ona's boot connected with his Hiroshi's stomach. It caught him off guard, such was the speed of her attacks. He fell backwards and curled into a fetal position, clutching his gut, completely winded. Again, Ona merely stood over him without the slightest change in her expression.

Again she glanced at the man; again he righted Hiroshi; again she asked him the same question; again Hiroshi answered that he did not know. It was a painful thing to watch. Mako felt sick as the cycle continued. Every single time Hiroshi answered, Ona delivered a hard blow to a different part of his body. Madoka and Asami could do nothing but watch horrified. The fifth time this happened – when Hiroshi fell flat on his face after the bald man righted him – Asami buried her face in Mako's shoulder, sobbing hysterically.

All this time, Ona did not react once. She betrayed know signs of frustration, annoyance or anger. She was calm as ever, emotionless as she watched Hiroshi lie sideways, his face and the front of his pajamas now drenched in blood. A tooth lay bloody and discarded nearby.

"Where is it?"

Hiroshi made a rasping, gurgling sound, fighting just to breathe, barely moving. He seemed incapable of speech and Mako could hardly blame him. Hiroshi's lips were cut, his mouth dribbling more blood than his nose. A purple bump was rising above his eyebrow.

"Where. Is. It." With every word, which was enunciated with chilling stoicism, Ona kicked him hard in the ribs. Hiroshi moaned in pain, attempting to roll away from the blows.

"STOP IT!" Madoka screamed, her beautiful face streaked with tears. "Leave him alone! He doesn't know what you're talking about!"

If Ona heard her screams, she didn't react. Perhaps she didn't care but Mako knew better. All around the hall, the other men seemed to tense up, much like a roomful of school children might if one student rudely swears at the teacher. The teacher would, of course, feign composure, but deep down, she would feel anger at the insolence of her ward.

Finally, after an interval of a few minutes where Hiroshi continued to lie on the floor bleeding while no one else dared move, Ona slowly nodded at the bald man. He swiftly turned to the place where Madoka, Asami and Mako were all sitting. Just as he had done with her husband, the bald man grabbed Madoka by the arm and dragged her up. Where a moment ago Asami sat sobbing, the second the man grabbed her mother, she looked up and started screaming.

"NO! Leave her alone! STOP!" She tried to get up, her hands still bound behind her. The bald man took no notice and dragged Madoka away. Asami cried once more, "Please! No!"

Mako quickly grabbed Asami by the arm and pulled her back down before someone decided to silence her for good. He held her closely to his chest where she sobbed into his shoulder. He felt her wet tears through his pajamas while willing himself not to cry either.

Madoka stumbled to a kneeling position next to her injured husband. Unable to use her arms, she bent down as low as possible whispering to her husband, brushing his cheek with her own. Ona watched them for a while before addressing Madoka.

"Ask him where it is."

Madoka was furious. "Don't you understand? He doesn't know what you're talking about!"

"You seem so certain."

"Of course I am!"

Ona leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you trust him with your life?"

At these words, Hiroshi convulsed like a trout on dry land. He spasmodically leaned towards his wife, groaning. He seemed to be trying to articulate words through his bleeding, swollen mouth. Madoka brushed a hand gently over his bruised forehead, trying to soothe him.

"Yes," she said, looking up at Ona with derisive contempt. "I do."

A heartbeat, maybe two. Then Ona straightened up again, peering down at Madoka without a trace of emotion on her face. "Good."

The strike was quick and without conscience. Mako held Asami tightly to him as he watched over her shoulder. A streak of white light flashed from the tips of Ona's fingers, temporarily blinding Mako. But he heard the unmistakable thud as a lifeless body hit the marble tiles. Asami clung onto him, her body tense. She knew.

As though to dispel any illusions about what had happened, a piteous, animal-like moan issued from Hiroshi's bloody lips. He turned onto his side, desperately crawling with the little strength of his upper body. He clutched at his wife's motionless body which was lying flush against the floor. He wept; the sound of a broken, ruined man echoed around the hall.

* * *

The world knew him as a rising star in the entrepreneurial race. Hiroshi Sato, CEO of the illustrious Future Industries, seemed to have it all: a beautiful wife, loving daughter, excellent work ethics, and an unrivaled streak of genius when it came to technology. To cap it all off, he had a good rags-to-riches stories that the media loved to lap up, lauding his ability to defy the odds and rise from the dust of his rundown hometown of Dragon Flats District.

But such was the gloss of all the best secrets and lies. The truth of the matter was, there was something far more sinister brewing behind Hiroshi Sato's seemingly miraculous fairytale. Though in interviews Hiroshi always recollected the story of how a kind banker had given him his first loan to start up his Satomobile line, the truth was far from it. The money was tainted. Before everyone knew him as the man of machinery, of brilliance unprecedented, Hiroshi struck a deal with the devil among devils: the Agni Kais.

Naïve in his youth, Hiroshi believed he had nothing to lose. At the time, this was mostly true. Born to a dirt-poor working class family, his future was bleak, and any number of risks was worth taking if only to escape the confines of poverty. He did not know – couldn't know – what it meant to meddle with the Agni Kais. In this, Ona pitied the man, for she knew all too well what that feeling was.

"Where is it?"

As Hiroshi lay on the floor, bleeding from multiple kicks and blows, he knew perfectly well what Ona was talking about. Ten years ago when he had asked the Agni Kai for assistance, they had granted him a handsome loan, more than enough to start his own business, but on one condition. He would not be paying them back in money. Instead, he was to present the Agni Kai with one invention they would be requested in detail at a later time. Blindly, stupidly, young Hiroshi accepted, sight unseen. It was to be the undoing of his life, that foolish promise. As it turned out, The Agni Kais wanted a lethal weapon.

Hiroshi would have gladly made the weapon if he could. He would have willingly thrown away the last vestiges of his so-called "ethics", his humanity, if it meant he could walk free and protect his wife and daughter from the threat of the ruthless Agni Kai triad, he would have made a hundred of those weapons. But despite all his efforts, his secretive research facility, and hours spent pouring over prototypes and blueprints, Hiroshi failed to develop a weapon matching the monstrosity that his creditors desired. For a while, he feigned confidence, and then, as time elapsed, attempted to bargain his way out. It was all for naught. The Agni Kai could not be swayed. They were furious and retribution came in the form of the dreaded Ona, a woman he had heard rumors about, rumors too gruesome to repeat, to fathom.

The only thing left for him was to shield his family. Madoka knew nothing for he had met her after the deal had been struck. Hiroshi had for years now made painstaking efforts to ensure that they never saw the approach of their impending doom. For them to see him being beaten in his own home was nothing, he reasoned, nothing compared to the horror of knowing his secrets. The pain he could endure; their pain he could not.

So it was like dying when – with the precision borne of a seasoned killer – his wife was taken from him, struck down with a flash of lightening. He smelled the burning flesh, heard the thud of her body hitting the hard marble. He felt numb, a severed limb floating in the icy ocean of grief. The waves washed over him, saltwater burning his open wounds. Madoka, his only love, gone forever.

"Did you really think you could play our game?" Ona's voice was calm. A dead body was smoking gently at her feet. This was nothing new to her. She leaned closer to Hiroshi who was weeping beside over his wife. "Did you really think that we would let you go if you gave us the Spec?"

Yes. That was the honest answer. Hiroshi had bet on the Agni Kai – on the entire city's – bloodlust for Specs. By handing over Bolin, he had hoped to end his ties with them. Wasn't that what Specs were after all? Just a breathing, living form of a lethal weapon? Certainly, the small eight-year-old boy was not yet ready for the mass destruction the Agni Kai had ordered him to invent. But Hiroshi had been desperate, so very desperate. He'd recognized Mako by the coded bulletin issued by the Agni Kais. He had called the Agni Kais just last night, believing their lie when they had accepted. The reward was cash – quite a handsome sum – but Hiroshi sought something far more valuable: his freedom. As a businessman, he should have known better than to trade with criminals.

"We thank you for catching the Spec for us," Ona continued. "Your reward is_ time_. Another year to complete the weapon. Fail again," she knelt down on one knee, her face very close to his, and whispered, "and it'll be your daughter's turn."

Hiroshi lay still, listening to the muffled sobs of his daughter not far away. He closed his eyes, feeling the throbbing of his bloodied face, the ache of every bone in his body. But most of all, he felt the searing of his heart, the gaping hole his wife's death had left. Asami's sobs echoed in his mind like a melody, a tune to the spotted film reel of Hiroshi Sato's failures.

* * *

The Satos, including Madoka's lifeless body, were all taken to a separate room. Mako was the only one remaining, surrounded by half a dozen hooded men, waiting in the center of the hall. He kept a close watch on the man holding Bolin. It seemed incredible that Hiroshi had planning all along to sell Bolin for his own gain, incredible what he had received instead.

"We've got time to settle one more affair," Ona remarked after consulting in brief whispers with one of the others. "Bring the little Firebender over here."

Mako was brought forward on his knees. His hands were not tied back like the Satos' had been but this was hardly an advantage. Shaking, Mako kept his eyes fixed on a space between his feet, wondering how hard she would hit him.

"You're the Spec's older brother." He did not answer. She didn't need or want one, anyway. "That night in the alleyway… You killed two of my men."

"I…" Mako faltered. His breath quickened. He could hear it again, the screams of his mother and father, the smoke. Then there was that pile of ashes, Bolin passed out behind him. He alone had been standing.

"You won't remember," Ona said. The words surprised Mako. He looked up at her, confused. She stared back down, a coldly appraising look on her face. "The things you've done or will do – you won't remember any of it. It's always that way with your kind."

_Your kind_. What was she talking about? Jumbled images and snatches of sounds like a half-sung melody filled his head. He saw the face of the scarred man who had taunted him in the alleyway. Everything stood out, clearly imprinted in Mako's memory: the silver studs, the scars and burns, even the brown teeth. Then the man was holding a flame to him – the flame that had whispered to Mako, spoke to him – and the film went blank. He was standing alone, a pile of soot at his feet.

"What…" Mako gulped, his heart drumming a tattoo against his ribcage. He looked up at Ona, deep into her gray eyes, beseeching. "Wh-what am I?"

For the very first time that entire night, he saw Ona grin. It was very short, more of a smirk than a smile, but none the less she seemed pleased at his question, at the desperation and confusion in his voice.

Leaning down, she whispered a single word into his ear, the word that would brand him, follow him for the rest of his life. In later years, he would sometimes wake in cold sweat, remembering Ona's haunting voice.

"Pyro."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: A Pyro is not a Special Bender but a term for Firebenders with an incredibly rare mental illness. Under certain circumstances such as extreme stress, fatigue, or excitement, a psychosis will be triggered in the Pyro and cause them to exhibit pyromania. Oftentimes, Pyros will become incredibly violent and destructive in this state, able to Firebend with immense power. Though these symptoms are not severe in children, it steadily worsens over time so that the psychosis can be triggered simply by looking at a flame without any other external stimuli. Given this condition, most Pyros do not live to see the age of 20. Most are killed upon diagnosis or else die from self-inflicted wounds during a psychotic break.

Pyros are shunned by society and often thought to be cursed by malignant Spirits. Because Pyros are not Specs, Hunters do not seek to capture them. However, Pyros are so rare that they are often mistaken for Firebender Specs. When a Hunter discovers that a target is actually a Pyro, the Hunter disposes of the target. Traditionally, the best method of killing a Pyro is considered drowning.


	11. Breaking Point

**A/N**: Sorry for the late update. It's been a hectic week for me. Anyways, enjoy this latest chapter! Thanks :)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Breaking Point**

* * *

"It's time to wrap things up," Ona said, checking her watch. Addressing the bald man she said, "Keep an eye on these two, and I don't want anything to go wrong. I'll be back once I check on the Satos."

The bald man bowed as Ona left through the double doors leading to another room. The doors closed behind her, leaving the other Agni Kais, Bolin, and Mako in the hall.

* * *

**.**

* * *

When Bolin awoke, he did what he knew to do instinctively. He cried. The man holding him tried to shut him up but he was bawling, consequences be damned. He cried harder when the man hit him on the head, and he struggled, kicking and flailing.

"Where's the damn sedative?" The man, a sallow-skinned middle-aged with a nasty boil next to his nose, held the thrashing Bolin at arm's length, evading the random kicks.

Bolin recognized the front hall, the marble floors and high ceilings of the Sato Mansion. It was all dark and none of the glittery chandeliers were lit. He was crying so hard that it was nearly impossible to tell how many of them were there but he thought he saw half a dozen. His immediate reaction: terror.

Another man wearing the same black jacket with the hood up approached him, rummaging in a small leather case. "We'd better shut the little bugger up before the Lieutenant comes back. You know how she hates a scene."

Bolin did not understand what "Lieutenant" was but it sounded so threatening that he started screaming loudly, his arms flapping all around while his legs jerked in all directions. Several times, his small feet connected with an arm or chest, eliciting several grunts of pain from the man holding him.

"Would you hurry up? This kid is nuts!"

"Can't find it," grunted the man beside them while Bolin continued to bawl. He held up a syringe and squinted at it in the moonlight. "Shit. Some idiot packed the wrong dosage. If we stick him with this one, he'll never wake up."

"Give him to that other brat so he shuts up."

Bolin was passed off and dropped into Mako's arms where he stopped bawling at once and instead sniveled quietly. Mako hugged Bolin's small shivering body to his chest. The men stood around them, arguing over the correct dosage needed to drug Bolin.

"These sedatives are very strong," one was saying. "We mess this up and we have a dead Spec on our hands."

"We should just tie him up an' then gag him."

Mako could tell they were slowly coming to an agreement. Time was short. He bowed his head, whispering into Bolin's ear.

"Bo… do you trust me?"

"Y-yeah…" Bolin sniffed.

It was now or never.

He acted quickly. Mako got top of Bolin, straddling him, both hands clamped tightly over his little brother's throat. Bolin was suffocating, gagging, choking. There was a look of shock and pain on his face that Mako couldn't stomach but he continued anyway, squeezing the very breath out of the one person he knew and loved in the world. It had to be done.

"HEY! GET OFF HIM!"

Someone smacked Mako hard in the back of the head. Light popped behind his eyes. Tearing up with pain, he rolled over on his side, away from his brother. There were shouts as someone dragged Bolin out of sight. Then, a ham-like hand clenched over Mako's throat and lifted him bodily from the floor.

"You wanna screw around, punk, do you?" An ugly, brutish face with a neck thicker than Mako's waist, growled menacingly at him. The man lifted his free hand where a fire instantly roared to life. He grimaced. "I'll teach you a lesson, you little –"

"Stop!" The bald man grabbed hold of the brutish man's wrist, wrenching it backward. "Stop this instant, you fool! Don't you get it? He's baiting you!"

The man with the huge hands released Mako who dropped like a fallen branch to the floor, landing hard on his feet.

"He almost killed the Spec!" snarled the brutish man who was about a head taller than the bald one. "You know what the Lieutenant would've done if that happened? We'd be dead!"

"Don't talk back to me, Ushu!" barked the bald man. "You are the one who almost got us killed! Are you so ignorant? One mistake with a flame and a Pyro will incinerate us all! I've seen the corpses –"

Ushu laughed, a harsh merciless roar. "Is that what you're wetting your pants over? You're scared the little boy will murder us?"

"You know he can!"

Ushu spat on the floor, a disgusted sneer on his face. "I'm not afraid of a child. And a Pyro… there are a hundred ways to kill such filth _without_ fire."

Mako barely had time to collect himself before the huge, brutish man picked him up again, this time by the collar of his borrowed silk pajamas.

"Mako!" It was Bolin. Mako turned to see his little brother in the arms of another Agni Kai. He seemed too tired to struggle anymore. "Mako!"

"Say goodbye to your worthless brother, little Spec," said Ushu, drawing a short dagger from his belt.

"Stop, we don't have orders –" the bald man protested but it was too late.

"See you in hell, Pyro." The dagger flashed in the moonlight as it moved swiftly through the little space between the brutish man and Mako. Blood – darkish brown in the night – splattered across the floor. There was no scream, only shock. The little eight-year-old boy, like a rag doll without its stuffing, fell limp in the man's hands.

"Mako…" Bolin did not blink. He stared in silence at his brother, the man holding him, and the blood – so much blood – dyeing the marble floor black. All was still. All was nothingness. All was wrong.

"Not so tough, is he?" said Ushu, examining the bloodied blade of his dagger. "And look – he bleeds red, just like the rest of –"

At that very moment, all hell broke loose. The entire mansion seemed to shred itself apart. A wide, ominous black crack snaked through the middle of the floor like an enormous serpent. The walls shook, framed pictures dropped to the floor, the chandelier above the room swayed back and forth –

"It's him!" shouted one of the Agni Kais, barely able to stand upright. "The Spec! Stop him!"

But it was too late. The man holding Bolin had already dropped him after being knocked to the floor. Bolin was lying in a fetal position, curled up into a tight ball. He was very still but everything around him was chaos.

The bald man tried to make a grab for Bolin but just as he took a step forward, the chandelier gave way, smashing to glittering shards of crystal on the torn marble floor. Soon, there were other noises – loud, frightening ones - ripping through the entire house. Screams of terror mixed with a cacophony of the destructive force: the earsplitting sound of breaking glass and china; the groan of pipes as sinks and bathtubs exploded, water pouring down the stairs; and the mansion itself which seemed to groan and shriek as it twisted itself, dust engulfing everything.

"The whole house is coming down!" Someone screamed. He was quickly silenced when a large chunk of marble hit him squarely in the chest. He crumpled to the floor and did not move.

With a terrific crack that sounded like the Earth cleaving in two, part the ceiling came crashing down, crushing the stairs in a earsplitting crunch of splintered mahogany. One of the Agni Kais who had been crawling toward the front door was crushed beneath a fallen piece of ceiling. His screams of pain were quickly drowned out by a deluge of water as it came flowing down over the wreckage of the staircase and into the wide cracks in the marble floor.

Soon it was no longer just the earthquake-like vibrations and falling objects. The crushed chunks of marble floor, the smashed china urns that once held decorative flowers, and even the crystals from the smashed chandelier – all flew around in a violent windstorm, a hurricane barely contained within the confines of the great mansion. The force of the spinning debris was enough to blow out all the windows, adding glass to its uncontrollable flurry of broken architecture.

Bodies littered the hall. Many lay in a pool of their own blood, their rib cages and skulls crushed in by the force of the whirling debris. In the very middle of the floor lay Bolin, staring with hollow eyes at the destruction raging around him. Suddenly, he felt someone touch the small of his back.

"Bo..." It was Mako, his face paper-white, hand clenched over his hemorrhaging abdomen. He had dragged his body to where Bolin lay curled, leaving wide brushstrokes of blood in his wake. He was nearly gone, his voice barely audible over racket of demolition and yet he managed a faint smile at his little brother. "It... it's... okay..."

Bolin watched as Mako closed his eyes, lay face down on the cracked marble floor, and moved no more.

* * *

**.**

* * *

A few kilometers atop a hill with a clear view of the Sato Estate, Ty Rhan sat on the hood of his Satomobile, feeling the slight tremors that resonated from the mansion below. Even from a distance and in the darkness of nightfall, he could still see the manor demolishing itself, as though the air around it were pulling the mansion apart. He sat there, watching quietly while dust billowed up as the entire structure fell. He sat there until the tremors stopped. He sat, knowing they were all dead.

When it was all over – and it didn't take long – he stood up and watched as the tiny red lights of police cars crawled like florescent ants through the roads of the upper class neighborhood. He listened to the static of the police scanner in his car. The tinny voice of a frightened officer issued between crackles of static through the open window,_ "No sign… survivors… see any…"_

Ty Rhan slipped off the car and got into the driver's seat. The show was over. Time to leave. But then, just as he started the engine, the police scanner buzzed to life again, the voice on the other end. Ty Rhan stopped, one hand on the steering wheel, listening intently.

_"Wait! I think … one critically injured… two boys, but… can't believe it... they're _alive_!"_

Ty Rhan grinned in spite of himself. He backed up slowly and drove off into the night. It would be many years before anyone saw or heard from him again. Before he sped away, he left just four short words to the wind, a statement to all he had witnessed that night: "Well I'll be damned."

* * *

**End of Part 1**

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Special thanks to everyone who took the time to read this story thus far! You are all fabulous people and I thank you all so very much ^^ This is the end of Part 1 of **Hunted**. I'll be continuing with Part 2 when I have a time and, just as a heads up, there will be a time skip. Korra will be returning to the story with a bigger role as well as some other characters you know and love ;)

See you soon!


	12. Part II: Prologue

**A/N**: School's starting soon so I won't be able to update as much. But here's a little taster before we get into the whole time-skip thingamajig. Thanks for reading, everyone!

* * *

**Part II**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

After what was reported to be a thorough investigation, it was concluded that the break-in at the Sato Mansion claimed the lives of no fewer than fifteen people, six of them members of the Agni Kai Triad. Once the autopsy results came back, three of the fifteen people were ruled as victims of homicide, including Madoka Sato. As for the others, all were killed in the mysterious collapse of Sato Mansion. Crime scene investigators initially thought that the Agni Kais had accidentally detonated a bomb within the premise despite the lack of evidence of any explosive device. It was a mystery that remained unsolved.

As for the survivors, there were a total of four: two young boys, Hiroshi Sato, and his daughter, Asami. All were taken immediately to the nearest hospital where they were treated by Healers. Sadly, it was later reported that one of the boys died upon arrival from a stab wound to the abdomen. The other boy quickly followed suit after complications arose during surgery. Both bodies were later moved to the hospital morgue, tagged but nameless.

That was the last of those two boys. At least, that's what the medical records said…

* * *

**.**

* * *

"Sweetie, you okay?"

Waking up, even to such a kind and caring voice, felt like dragging oneself from the dead.

"Where's Bo?" It was the first thing that Mako's sluggish mind could think of. His eyes were going cross-eyed from the sudden onslaught of visual stimuli: the bright lights, the painfully bright white walls, the pink curtains, and the face of a woman he'd never seen before staring intently down at him. He felt his stomach which was wrapped in bandages.

"It's okay, you're in a hospital. You're safe now," she said. The woman smiled, a certain warmth radiating from her. It soothed Mako to know that she wasn't trying to kill him. Not yet, anyway. The woman tucked a stray strand of curly brown hair behind one ear and held up a thermometer. "Could you open your mouth for me, dear? I'm just going to take your temperature."

Mako did as he was told. When she checked the thermometer a little while later, she seemed pleased.

"Your temperature's gone down so that's a good sign," she said, checking something on a clipboard.

"Who are you?" asked Mako, watching the woman as she put the clipboard down on the bed by his feet.

"My name is Ae Jeong. I work as a nurse here."

"I thought nurses wore uniforms," Mako replied, noting her brown knit sweater and dark slacks.

"Yes, we normally do," Ae Jeong replied with a small smile. "But I'm gonna have to leave soon and I didn't want anyone to recognize me."

"Why?"

"Well, usually it's considered illegal to smuggle small children from the hospital in the dead of night, you know."

Mako stared at Ae Jeong who smiled back. For a moment, he wondered whether she was joking, whether this was one of those jokes that only adults understood. Mako shrank a little in his bed, his body tensing, alert.

Without warning, Ae Jeong grabbed hold of Mako's wrists. He struggled even though her grip was gentle. She did not let go, however, but leaned closer with an earnest look on her face.

"Listen very carefully, Mako," said Ae Jeong. "This is important."

"How do you know my name?" Mako gasped, too stunned to fight anymore.

"That's for later. Right now, all you need to know is that people will come looking for you. They're coming to silence you and take your Bolin. Do you understand?"

Mako stared at Ae Jeong, confused. It occurred to him that she could be lying, that her name might be something else entirely, or that she herself was a member of the Agni Kai, come to steal him away as quietly as possible. It was possible, he thought. After what happened at Sato Mansion, anything was possible.

"I'm part of an underground group that helps hide Specs and their relatives," Ae Jeong continued, giving his wrists a slight squeeze. "You are in terrible danger. You need to leave tonight before they come."

"But… you said I was safe here," Mako stammered, finally freeing himself from Ae Jeong's grasp.

"You're safe now but not for very long," she whispered. "You can trust me."

"Where's Bolin?" It was the second time he'd asked her this. She hesitated. "Where is he?" Mako pressed again, fearing the worst.

"To the Agni Kais, the Spec is always the top priority," replied Ae Jeong quietly. "We had to take him first but –"

Without warning, Mako sprang from his bed, ignoring the sore pain in his side. He landed on the white-washed floor and ran across the room to the door, ignoring Ae Jeong's calls. He was now flying down the hallway which was deserted in the night. Skidding around a corner, he found a door leading to the stairwell and raced down the steps, chest heaving all the while. He could hear Ae Jeong's cries. She was close.

"Help!" Mako shouted when he spotted someone a flight of stairs below him. "Please! Someone's after me!"

The man stopped and Mako managed to catch up to him. The man was young, probably in his early twenties. He was wearing a golf hat and the collar of his black coat was turned up. He turned to see Mako practically fall into his arms down the stairs.

"Mako!" Ae Jeong gasped as she appeared a few moments later at the top of the stairs. She stopped abruptly at the sight of Mako holding onto the stranger's coat sleeve. They stared at each other, the two adults, the child between them.

"Don't worry, kid, I won't let anyone hurt you," the man said, crouching down next to Mako. Up close, Mako saw that the man had odd eyes: one was blue, the other was a soft gray.

"Really?" Mako said, surprised though visibly relieved.

The man grinned, gently placing a hand on the boy's head. "Of course not."

A sharp tingling sensation spread throughout Mako's body, starting from the point where the man's hand touched his head . Before he realized what was happening, he fainted dead away, and fell into the man's arms.

"What are you doing?" Ae Jeong cried out worriedly as she hurried down the steps. "You shouldn't have done that! He's still recovering from his injuries."

"He's a fighter, this one," the man replied ignoring Ae Jeong's reproachful glare as she took the boy's limp body from him. "Make sure you don't lose him again. The car is waiting for you two downstairs," he added, turning away.

"And the other one?" Ae Jeong asked.

"Already at headquarters," answered the man, slowly descending the stairs. "He's still waiting, you know. Waiting for his brother."

* * *

**...**

* * *

When Asami Sato was pulled from the rubble of what was once a handsome mansion, she left the ruins stripped of all that she held dear: her family, her home, and her happiness. She was hollowed out, sucked dry to the bone. She had nothing – _was_ nothing.

She later learned from the bed of a blindingly white, sterile hospital room that her mother's body had been recovered. Of course, she was dead. Madoka had been dead before the floor split apart and ceiling rained down upon them. As for her father, he was recuperating in a private ward. He was alive and well but there was a catch.

"What do you mean I can't see him?" asked Asami, staring from one stoic adult to the next. One had introduced himself as the family lawyer, a tall man wearing a grey suit and tie. The woman standing next to him was dressed in a sharp black pencil skirt, and wore horn-rimmed glasses. "He's my father! I want to see him –"

"I'm afraid Mr. Sato is in no condition to meet anyone at the moment," the lawyer interrupted her. "I'm very sorry to say this Asami, but legally speaking, you are now an orphan."

Asami's eyes widened. Her jaw hung open with a dumbstruck expression. If her mother were alive to see her, a sharp lecture on public image would've been in order. Ironically, Asami would've gladly accepted one if only to hear her mother's voice again. "I… I don't understand," she said faintly.

"In time, you will," replied the lawyer soothingly but there was a hint of distress in his eyes that Asami did not miss. "In meantime, you'll be taken care of by a relative –"

"My father has none," Asami cut in, her stomach suddenly clenching. She fought back tears the only way she knew how: to keep on fighting. "He was raised by his grandparents and they all passed away years ago. Same with my mother's parents."

"But you do have a relative on your mother's side." The lawyer opened a small notebook and extracted a single photograph. He handed this to Asami and asked, "Do you recognize him?"

Begrudgingly, Asami glanced at the black-and-white photograph. It seemed worn, probably taken a few years ago at least. It was a picture of a handsome young man with an alert face, jet-black hair, and dark eyes. Underneath a long traveling coat, the young man wore what Asami could only assume to be a military uniform. In the background, she could see something that looked like a smokestack puffing clouds into a bleak winter sky.

"I don't know this man," Asami said, turning away from the photograph.

"It's natural that you don't. The man in the photo is a distant relative of yours and, as I understand it, he's been very busy for the last ten years or so." The lawyer rifled through the pages of his notebook, looking for something. "Ah, here we are. Technically speaking, this man and your mother are second cousins."

"I don't know this man," Asami repeated, gritting her teeth. "I want to see my father."

The lawyer closed the notebook with a short sigh. He seemed unsure what to say but was saved the hassle by his companion.

"Miss Sato… Asami," the woman began, readjusting her spectacles slightly. "I am truly sorry for your loss, however, there is another reason that necessitates your immediate departure." She hesitated for a moment, then plowed on, "It would appear that… you're in danger."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Someone asked me what Bolin's special power is. Basically, he has psychic Earthbending powers. Whereas a normal Earthbender would have to use martial arts moves to Earthbend, Bolin only needs to concentrate to achieve the same feat. There are limitations as far as brainpower goes. If a Spec like Bolin loses focus or develops a migraine from prolonged concentration, he or she might have to take a break before using the Spec ability again. Hope this explanation if sufficient. :)


	13. Safe and Snow

**A/N: **Special thanks to the awesome people who have read, followed, reviewed, or favorited this story. You guys rock! :)

* * *

**Chapter One: Safe and Snow**

* * *

_**The South Pole**_

_5 years later..._

* * *

The snow fell in white swirls, drifting gently down atop sheets of ice. The road was slick with frost – it always was – but the wagons and trucks did not stop moving. There was a rule inside the compound of the White Lotus Fortress. No outsiders were allowed to stop inside. Whatever packages of food or supplies they brought were to be dropped off immediately, followed by immediate departure. No dawdling or waiting about and certainly no talking to the anyone.

On this particular day, a delivery truck was parked next to a pile of large crates which had just been unloaded. The truck driver was peering about, seemingly oblivious to the no-loitering policy. Unbeknownst to him, a young girl was hiding just behind the mountain of crates, sneaking covert peeks around the corners at the driver and the truck.

"Korra, what're you doing here?"

Korra jumped slightly as a teenage boy appeared at her side, a bemused expression on his face. The boy was wearing a dark parka which had the emblem of the Order of the White Lotus, a white lotus encased within a circle, sewn onto the chest with white thread. He was the same age as Korra but held himself awkwardly as though he was still getting used to his fast-growing body. His hair was muddled mop of brown and a few freckles stood out against his pale complexion.

"Sh!" Korra hissed, pressing a gloved finger to her lips. "I'm watching that guy," she mouthed, jerking a thumb at the truck driver.

"Well, I can see that," the boy mumbled, wondering what Korra was getting so excited over. She had a look of anticipation on her face, her clear blue eyes shining as she observed the truck driver who looked nothing short of uninspiringly normal in every aspect.

A few seconds later, an OWL sentry approached the driver, heaving a large tire in his arms. The two men conversed for a short while. Then the driver replaced one of the back tires of his truck with the new one. After that brief exchange, the driver quickly got back into his truck and drove off. The sentry left shortly, leaving Korra and the boy still hiding behind the crates, Korra looking thoroughly disappointed.

"I was so sure he was a spy," Korra said a while later as the two walked toward the stables. The boy trailed behind her, an expression of exasperation written all over his face. "I'm serious!" said Korra, rounding on the boy who quickly rearranged his features into one of mild interest. "That truck driver looked pretty suspicious, didn't he, Howl?"

"Um… Suspicious?" Howl repeated, not wanting to encourage Korra's absurd conspiracy theories. "His truck had a flat tire and he was waiting for someone bring a spare."

"Obviously, that was just a distraction!" Korra insisted matter-of-factly. The two teenagers entered the stables which smelled distinctly of hay and manure. "He was planning something, I know it."

The stable housed several wooly Horse Oxen, their brown coats gently steaming in the cold air. Several saddles were mounted on the walls alongside decorative plaques of stuffed Moose Bear heads and the twisted antlers of some long-dead half-species no one could quite remember the name of. Korra moved quickly through the stables to the back where, in a larger stall, gigantic Polar Bear Dog was curled up.

"Wake up, Naga, sleepy head!" Korra jumped over the gate instead of opening it and proceeded to tickle the sleeping giant. "Come on, girl, wake up!"

Howl stayed behind the gate, fidgeting with the latch on the door. Though he visited Naga on a regular basis, he was still getting used to the idea that a Polar Bear Dog – notoriously untamable wild beasts – could actually be considered a pet.

Howl watched apprehensively as Korra practically jumped onto Naga's back, keeping up a constant flow of cajoling words. "Come on, girl, come on. Wake up, wake up, wake up –"

"Korra, maybe you should let her rest," Howl suggested when Naga gave a curt growl and shifted slightly on her bed of hay. "She's tired."

"Nah, she's just getting lazy is all. C'mon girl, let's go for a run!"

After half an hour of coaxing on Korra's part, Naga finally got up, yawning and pawing at the ground restlessly as though half-wishing she could go to sleep again. Pleased with the results, Korra placed the reins over the Polar Bear Dog's head and led her out of the stable, Howl trailing slightly behind her.

"Hey, Howl, wanna go for a ride?" Korra asked, looking over her shoulder at Howl who blushed red at the suggestion.

"N-no, I don't think –"

"Oh, come on, it'll be fine!" Korra dragged Howl over and all but shoved him onto Naga's back before joining him. They set off at a trot, Howl holding onto the reins with a sick feeling in his stomach. Behind him, Korra sat grinning, oblivious to his discomfort.

As per the rules within the compound, the Avatar was strictly forbidden from leaving the fortress without the express permission of one of the OWL Elders. As luck would have it, Erma was passing by on her way to the main building, her gray hair swept up into a tight bun.

"Elder Erma!" Korra called out, waving at her. Erma stopped short, watching the huge animal approach with a stern expression.

"Korra," said Erma when Naga skidded to a halt in front of her. "Shouldn't you be practicing for your Earthbending examination? Am I mistaken in thinking that it's only a few hours away?"

"It's no big, I've only been Earthbending since I was three," replied Korra, leaning sideways to peer at the disapproving frown lining Erma's mouth. "And I've also been practicing_ really _hard for the past few days," Korra added hastily, smiling innocently at the Elder.

Erma sighed, her short breath of steam rising in front of her. "Very well, then," she relented to which Korra whispered "Yes!" into Howl's ear. "But make sure you're not late for your examin –"

"Kay, I'll see you later!" Korra called out, nudging Naga gently with her foot before the Elder had finished talking. Naga bounded away, kicking up a flurry of snow as she sped off toward the main gates.

Erma scowled after them, brushing snow from her hair before she moved on.

* * *

**.**

* * *

Three people sat silently around a polished table which was engraved with the lotus symbol. Gappak, the Head of the White Lotus Elders, sat sipping from a steaming cup of green tea. To his left sat Elder Washu, who was blinking slowly through a pair of spectacles, his beard and hair a dull shade of grayish white. The next seat, reserved for Erma, was empty while the seat after that was occupied by a very old lady who was famously known as the wife of the late Avatar Aang – Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.

"Apologies for my tardiness," said Erma briskly when she entered a few minutes later. She took her place between Master Katara and Washu, her bony cheeks still quite red from the frigid outside air. "I bumped into Korra on the way here – she's taking that animal of hers on a stroll with the Howl boy."

"How is Howl these days?" Master Katara asked, a warm smile spreading across her wrinkled face. "I take it that he's doing well in his training?"

"Hardly," scoffed Erma. "He's always too busy running after Korra. At least the Avatar has some natural talent whereas the boy..."

"I'm sure, in time, that he'll take his sentry training seriously," said Gappak. "He's only twelve and it would be cruel of us to take away his childhood, especially after he lost his mother at such a young age."

"Quite right," Washu chimed in after a prolonged sip of tea. "The boy needs time."

"A shame that the same cannot be said of the Avatar," added Gappak, looking pointedly around at the gathering. Beside him, Erma straightened her already stiff posture, and Washu busied himself by pouring himself some more tea. Master Katara watched the Elders carefully, her blue eyes landing on Gappak who held her gaze with a determined expression.

"It's difficult to believe that we're having the same conversation again for what must be the third time this month, Great Elders," said Master Katara respectfully. "To someone as old as I am, it seems a waste of our limited time to repeat the same topics."

"Master Katara, you know full well how urgent this situation is," said Gappak and the two companions nodded sagely. "If we do not decide right now, the Avatar might –"

"And who are we to decide what the Avatar should or shouldn't do?" asked Master Katara, her manner still as mild and polite as ever. "We are her protectors, not her owners."

"I take offense at that comment," grunted Washu, his mustache bristling slightly. "Surely you understand, Master Katara? If we do not act, someone else will."

"With all due respect, Elder Washu, you cannot seriously consider that Korra would willingly accept this proposal. It would mean giving up a lot for someone who has already sacrificed so many things."

"Clearly, she is far too young to be making the decision herself," said Erma. "Perhaps if we had the luxury of waiting until her sixteenth birthday, but at the age of twelve?"

"My late husband, Avatar Aang, was the same age when he saved the world, as I recall," said Master Katara.

"Well, that's an exception," Gappak said. "Avatar Aang had help on his end from you as well as his other companions."

"Yes, and his companions, including myself, were all children at the time. I regret to say Korra does not seem to have as many friends. Perhaps that is the main problem? I did express some concern over the Order's tendency to overprotect Korra from the outside world. Am I to understand correctly that her parents have been denied their visitation rights in the past year?"

"Security reasons, naturally," said Washu as though it were the most obvious thing in the entire world.

"Which brings us back to the main issue," said Gappak with a slight edge to his voice. "It would be in the Avatar's best interest to follow through with our plan."

At this, Master Korra smiled sadly and shook her head, two strands of looped hair moving swaying slowly. The Elders fell quiet at the gesture and Erma fixed her gaze on the lotus symbol engraved on the polished table.

"I'm sorry, Elders," Master Katara said, a resolute finality in her voice which seemed to carry many years of worldly experience. "But I cannot agree to this. Good day."

She left, leaving the three Elders sitting around the table, their cups of tea growing cold with neglect.

* * *

**..**

* * *

"Yes, I win!"

Korra jumped around with excitement, even before her opponent landed flat on his back, having been flung across the arena floor by one of Korra's Earthbending strikes. Korra's Earthbending Master, a stout man with a bulky build by the name of Po Tung, stood off to the side with the Elders as they watched the Avatar celebrate her victory.

"I won!" Korra shouted, running over to where the adults stood. "Did you guys see that? I totally nailed it!"

"By 'it', are you referring to your exam or your opponent?" asked Po Tung, gesturing at Korra's opponent who lay breathing heavily on the floor, too exhausted to pick himself up. "Korra, I thought I told you to take things slowly. Earthbending is about patience and endurance –"

"How're we supposed to fight if we're both waiting?" Korra interrupted, bouncing on the heels of her feet. "That's why I won, isn't it? That's stuff's all good in theory and all but if you want to win – "

"For the hundredth time, Korra, not everything is about winning!" exclaimed Erma with a touch of exasperation. She sighed, massaging her forehead with forefinger and thumb.

Gappak cleared his throat, catching the look on the adults' faces which contrasted heavily with Korra's look of joy. After a quick exchange with Master Po Tung, Gappak addressed Korra. "Perhaps you should go wait in your room while we deliberate on your performance."

Korra beamed. "Does that mean I passed?"

"It means you'll have to wait until we decide," explained Washu sternly.

Korra nodded and made as if to turn away before adding, "I passed right?"

"Go to your room!"

* * *

**..**

* * *

The night was cold. Too cold, maybe, but Korra felt energized, exuberant. She had just been informed that, on a technicality, she had passed her Earthbending exam and would be meeting her Firebending Master for the first time in a few days. In the meantime, she planned on fully spending her free time goofing off with Howl and Naga, even if she had to forgo a couple hours of sleep.

Instead of walking through the knee-deep snow, Korra formed an ice-path to slide down by Waterbending the snow in front of her. Bending her knees to maintain balance, she whizzed down the slippery path, simultaneously melting the ice behind her as she went.

The stables looked dark and empty from the outside but Korra bounded inside, glad to get out of the snowfall. Inside, the smell of hay and manure greeted her. Without bothering to turn on a lantern, Korra moved briskly through the stable, listening to gentle neighing from the Horse Oxen.

"Naga?" Korra whispered, when she reached the rear of the stable. "You here girl?"

A flash of white caught her eyes and she turned around. Naga was lurking in the corner of the stall, growling in a low murmur. A strange dark mass of what appeared to be rags was bunched up next to her. Korra took a step closer, feeling her way through the darkness.

"Let's go for a ride, girl," Korra said, climbing over the gate as per usual. "C'mon it'll be great –"

She stopped. Something wasn't right. As she landed, a great squelching noise accompanied by the sharp scent of copper caused Korra to peer down at her feet. She was standing in something black and wet. She tried to remove them with a flick of her wrist but it wouldn't budge.

A liquid she couldn't Waterbend? But that could only mean –

Just then, a cloud passed the dark sky, unveiling the pearly orb behind it. Light filtered in through the stable window, revealing the source of the black pool. Almost immediately, an unearthly, high-pitched scream of terror tore through the entire compound. It took Korra a few seconds to realize that it was she who was screaming, and that what she was seeing was not a fantasy or a dream.

The body of an old woman lay cooling in a bed of her own blood, the two beads that separated her signature hair loops glinting in the pale moonlight.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N:** For the record, I have nothing against Katara, I really don't. I loved her in ATLA and I love her still. This was not a hate-killing on my part, believe me.


	14. The Company We Keep

**A/N**: Hey, how is everyone? It's been a while. Hope you enjoy this chapter ~~

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Company We Keep**

* * *

There was a barren little village, hardly worth knowing let alone visiting, off the east coast of the Earth Kingdom. The surrounding areas consisted mostly of thick woods and mountains, the nearest train station a day's journey away. The village itself was only accessible through the savage woods which only the most daring of travelers could brave. Not all survived the trip.

Those who did manage to reach the small village, which was simply referred to by outsiders and villagers alike as "The Town", were usually met with less than warm greetings by the locals. Most of them never took notice of wandering visitors. They were usually gone the following day anyway, come and gone as quickly as the morning dew.

For those villagers who remembered later in life, perhaps reminiscing over the few memorable occasions worth jotting down in their memories, it all started with the two travelers. They were different, that much was certain from the second they set foot in The Town, straight out of the woods like any other visitor. Except in this case, the two travelers attracted attention without trying.

One was a man, a tall middle-aged fellow with a handsome chiseled face, dark hair, and disarming brown eyes that stopped several of the village women in their tracks, struck-dumb with a rosy blush forming upon their cheeks when the man smiled at them.

His companion was a much younger girl, though perhaps not too young judging by her shapely figure, distinguishable even beneath her thick coat. She had smooth peach skin, bright green eyes, and silky black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Had the man been a few years younger, they could have easily passed as newlyweds judging by the way they moved as though conjoined at the hips; her arm wrapped around his waist, and his draped around her shoulders.

"Room for two, please," said the man to the ancient woman sitting behind the counter of what passed as an inn in the village. He flashed a dazzling yet natural smile which hurried the usually bitter old lady to quickly hand him a set of keys, not bothering to count the money he placed on the counter.

The second the two of them were past the threshold of their room, they stepped apart, the man letting a low groan as he collapsed sideways into an armchair while the girl jumped into action, bolting the door and helping the man shed his thick coat.

Blood was seeping through his grey sweater which was immediately stripped off and discarded onto the wooden floor. A bloody bandage was plastered onto his stomach, a trail of blood already snaking into his pants.

"Stay still," the girl muttered, trying to remove the bandage.

"Damn... I thought I was gonna black out down there," the man said, closing his eyes.

Wordlessly, the girl replaced the old bandage. She worked quickly and quite calmly as though she had done this many times and was no longer squeamish over blood and violence.

Five years could do a lot to a person.

"I'll check to see if this place is bugged," she said, once her task was finished. She stepped back after wrapping a blanket around the man's naked torso. His fresh bandages were already turning red beneath several layers of gauze. The girl turned away but stood still when the man suddenly spoke.

"By the way, Asami," the man said, his eyes still closed. "Happy birthday."

Asami, her back still turned, did not reply.

* * *

_**The South Pole**_

* * *

The Order of the White Lotus prided itself on the security of its fortress. Every aspect of it, from its outer walls to all the restrictive protocols regarding outside vehicles, were incorporated to make the compound the safest environment possible for the young Avatar. Guards received the best training possible to be vigilant and react at a moment's notice. They even had an official food-checker to ensure that the food was never poisoned. Regular meetings were held to discuss how security could remain tighter without compromising efficiency, and any suspicious activity, however small, was never overlooked.

But now this.

When the first guard came running to scene of a screaming Korra, he was unprepared to see a corpse growing colder by the second in the Naga's stable. The Polar Bear Dog was growling just a few feet away from the body, her white fur stained with brownish blood as were her front paws.

Soon, nearly everyone worth notifying was huddled inside the barnyard, some of them still wearing their pajamas, having rushed straight from their beds. Korra was taken away to her own room while a medic examined the body. Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe was pronounced dead on the spot.

Meanwhile, a distraught Korra was taken to her room where she stayed, waiting for news. The elderly sentry who escorted her offered to keep her company but she refused him politely, saying that she wished to be alone for a while. For the next two days, she was forbidden from leaving her room except to be escorted to the bathroom. Her food was served directly to her room and passed the time away wondering what was going on outside.

On the evening of the second day, she was surprised to hear a knock on her door. Someone had already been to clear away her dinner tray.

"Who is it?" Korra called out, her nose still stuffy from her most recent bout of silent crying.

"Hey, it's me, can I come in?"

Korra leapt from her bed and slid open the wood paneled doors. Howl stood in the doorway, dressed in his navy and blue sentry uniform. His cheeks were still red from the cold outside and his hair was flaked with bits of snow.

"Are you okay?" asked Howl once he was safe inside. Korra closed the door behind her before answering.

"Yeah, I guess, just a little, you know…" Korra trailed off, suddenly embarrassed that her best friend was here in her room. Luckily, Howl did not comment on her blotchy tear-stained face. Instead she changed the subject at top speed and asked, "So what's going on? No one's told me anything and they won't let me leave the room."

Howl nodded, removing his helmet which bore the symbol of the White Lotus. His brown hair was a mess as usual, his freckles standing out against his skin.

"It's been pretty hectic. All the trainees were told to get into our uniforms to maximize the guard around the perimeters. I've never seen the Elders so worried before." He paused, glancing at Korra who was hanging onto his every word. "They… they're not sure who did it, yet."

Korra seemed to deflate at the words, looking more crestfallen and miserable than when she had been crying alone. The fact that the culprit was still at large made her skin prickle, as though invisible ants were crawling up and down her back.

"It could be anyone," Korra sighed, rubbing her swollen eyes. "It could be any one of us, hiding, and no one has any idea what happened –"

"Actually, there's –" Howl stopped abruptly, catching himself but it was too late. Before he could backtrack or cover up his mistake, Korra practically pounced on him, demanding him to continue.

"There's what? There's a suspect, isn't there? Spit it out!" Korra tackled a frightened Howl to the ground on the animal skins, pinning both arms by his sides. "Who is it, Howl? Is it a sentry? Come on, you can tell me!"

"It's not –" Howl spluttered, completely winded by Korra's sudden attack. "You… you don't get it –"

But it was never in Korra's nature to back down from a challenge. She did the one thing she knew would open up Howl at any moment, a secret she'd found out one day when they were children. A bit tricky with so many layers of clothes on, but Korra managed to slide a hand up the front of his tunic.

"Korra, stop, no –"

Even as Howl struggled, Korra pinned his arm down with her foot while she proceeded to tickle him mercilessly with one hand. As expected, the young sentry-in-training melted into a puddle of giggles, wriggling and writhing but unable to escape.

"C'mon, Howl, tell me who the suspect is!"

"I… c-can't…." Howl was nearly breathless with laughter, tears forming in his eyes. His resisted for another ten seconds before, finally, he blurted out, "It's.. Naga."

Korra released him, not so much from satisfaction, but from sheer shock. Howl lay on his side, trying to catch his breath.

"No," said Korra, looking stubbornly down at the floor. "That's impossible."

"It's the truth! They had to tranquilize her before they examined the… the body," Howl explained, sitting back up again. "There was blood all over her fur and she wouldn't move away, just kept growling –"

"Obviously, because she wanted to protect Katara!" said Korra, her voice rising in spite of herself. "Naga would _never_ hurt anyone. I bet whoever the real culprit it, they were one of the first people to arrive and… and… Naga recognized them!"

She paced up and down the room, rubbing her face to stay awake. She hadn't slept much in the last few days, and the news that some idiots were accusing Naga of a crime she hadn't – couldn't – commit wasn't helping the fatigue.

"Korra," said Howl, watching his best friend muttering to herself quietly, "I think you should get some rest."

"I can't rest now, Howl, we've got some crazy stuff going on here!" said Korra, stopped mid-stride. She stared at Howl, a fire lighting up behind her blue eyes. "We've gotta go find Naga, find out what really happened."

"You can't leave your room, remember?"

"But this is a matter of life and death!"

"I'm glad you understand that," said a deep voice from behind the doors. Both Katara and Howl jumped as the silhouette of three people appeared on the other side of the paper screens. Even before she slid the door open, Korra knew who they were.

The three Elders filed into the room, Gappak wearing an unusually grim expression. Erma and Washu stood slightly behind him, as though wanting to distance themselves from the forthcoming exchange.

"Naga didn't do it!" Korra said immediately before anyone else could speak. "She didn't do it and it's wrong of you to suspect her –"

"Young Avatar, please, calm down," interrupted Gappak, holding up a hand. "I'm afraid the matter is not as simple as you think it is."

"What do you mean?"

"Korra, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news," said Erma, taking half a step forward. She seemed uncomfortable voicing the words aloud but plowed on steadily. "But, I'm afraid the matter at hand is not something we can contain within our, shall we say, inner circle. In other words, we've allowed several people from outside the Order to investigate."

"Investigate?" echoed Korra.

"The investigations," said Washu, "have yielded several facts. The wounds inflicted on the body, for example, were thoroughly examined. Taking all the evidence into consideration, the investigation has concluded that there can be no mistake."

"I should add that in this case, we had no choice but to leave the decision concerning the remaining procedures to them," said Erma.

"Which means what?" demanded Korra. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Howl's, trying to draw her away, but she couldn't turn away now. She had to hear the verdict herself.

When Gappak spoke next, his voice heavy with pity and sadness. To Korra, it felt like her very skin was being stripped away, leaving her with a hollow skeleton and the dry shell of a once-beating heart.

"Three days from now, after the funeral, Naga will be put to sleep... There's nothing we can do. I'm very sorry."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: So, who do you think the murderer is? Whoever it is, Korra's gonna have to think fast to save Naga.

Hope to see you soon with a new chapter! Thanks for reading :)


	15. Escape

**A/N**: Hello! I hope you're enjoying your weekend. Rushed this chapter but I hope you like it all the same.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Escape**

* * *

"The room's clean," Asami said, moving a small side table back against the wall. She glanced up at the ceiling, scanning the watermarked wallpaper. "I might have to check that light fixture, though."

"Give it a rest, Asami," groaned the man who was sipping a cup of hot tea. It was still dark outside but he was already wearing his day clothes, ready to leave a moment's notice. His bandages were safely hidden beneath a bulky gray sweater. "You're getting way too paranoid."

"Look who's talking," Asami replied, craning her neck to get a good look at the light fixture on the wall. Satisfied, she turned to look at the man who was peering at her over the edge of his teacup.

"You know," the man said, glancing briefly at a dusty clock mounted on the wall, "we've still got about an hour left of your birthday."

He let the words hang in the air, watching Asami for a response. Instead of replying, she slowly walked over to an empty armchair and perched herself on one of the arms, one foot still touching the worn carpet. After a lapse of silence that might have lasted a few minutes, she let out a low sigh, as though knowingly engaging in a lost cause.

"Uncle Dai," she began very seriously.

"Oh, here we go again," said Dai, rolling his eyes.

"What?" Asami looked indignant.

Dai set his teacup back down on a rickety side table and fixed the sixteen-year-old girl with a meaningful look.

"You only ever call me 'Uncle' when –"

"Well, isn't it about time I went back?" Asami interrupted him, her voice rising slightly. "I'm not talking about a month or even a week. I just want to see my dad and no one will know –"

" – and if they do?" Dai's voice was suddenly hard. He normally didn't use this tone of voice but it always came up when the subject of Republic City was mentioned. When Asami remained silent, he pressed her again, "What happens when they do – and make no mistake they will – what happens then?"

"The Agni Kais don't know where we are," said Asami, her green eyes shining like cut sea glass. "It's been five years now."

"And we've only survived this long because we've been on the run," said Dai, his voice softening slightly. A look of something close to pity warmed his brown eyes. "Places they can't easily track, places they don't know where to look –"

"You mean places like this?" Asami swept an arm over the musty room. Apart from the two armchairs they were sitting in, the single room contained very little furniture save for a sagging bed, a bare cupboard, and a side table. The only bathroom was out in the hallway, meant to be shared by all the guests.

"You've slept in worse conditions, Asami."

"That's not what I'm talking about!" She stood up, unable to contain her frustration. She rounded on Dai, pointing a finger at his lumpy sweater. "If I hadn't been there for your, that Platypus Bear would've ripped out your organs through your –"

"Thanks for that mental image," said Dai sarcastically.

"- and there were at least a dozen other times we both could have died. Every single island, every remote location we've gone to, was just an accident waiting to happen. We might as well turn ourselves over to the Agni Kai right now."

"So why haven't you?"

Asami did not miss a beat. "Because my dad's waiting for me." She let out a low sigh. "I'm done running, Dai. I'm leaving at dawn, and if you won't come with me, I'll find my own way home."

Before Dai could respond, she left the room, the door closing quietly behind her.

* * *

_**The South Pole**_

* * *

She was doing it tonight.

Korra slipped out of her bed and got dressed. Her bag was already packed. She'd surreptitiously packed it the day before with just the bare essentials: a change of clothes, some food, a blanket. She had a long way to go but no way was she about to let the others know. This would be her secret rescue mission.

The guard who was supposed to be stationed outside the door was off listening to the Pro Bending match on the radio with his friends. Korra was able to break in without much effort, only having to stop briefly to pick the lock with a pin.

Naga was waiting inside her usual pen. Korra was shocked to see that Naga was wearing a muzzle, and probably starved as well. Her front legs were also chained to the wall opposite and she looked miserable with bloodshot eyes.

"Hold on, girl, I'll get you out," Korra whispered, jumping lightly over the fence. She quickly removed the muzzle and was rewarded with a slobbering kiss on the cheek. Using the same pin she had picked the locks with, Korra freed Naga's front paws and saddled her, tying her rucksack to the back.

"Okay, let's do this thing," Korra said, taking the reins and leading Naga out. "We're getting out of –"

They stopped abruptly. Standing in the doorway to the stable was a young man dressed in a uniform of white and blue, a White Lotus Sentry. Korra knew immediately who it was.

"Going somewhere, Korra?" asked Howl, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Howl…" Korra felt dejected. As much as she had wanted to keep their escape a secret, it had pained her to lie to her only human friend in the entire world. "Look, I didn't want it to be this way…"

"You're leaving just like that?" Howl came closer. He was the same age as Korra but much taller. His brunette hair was hidden beneath his blue helmet and the freckles on his cheeks seemed to stand out more prominently in the moonlight. At the moment, his usually kind face was set with a disapproving frown. Korra hated that expression.

"Yeah, I am." She stood her ground, holding her head high. It was her decision and she wasn't about to let anyone – not even Howl – stop her. She'd had enough. "We're leaving."

"Where?" Howl betrayed the slightest hint of anger, frustration. Korra inwardly flinched. It was the rare occasion that he ever got angry, and never at her. He took a step forward. "Where are you going?"

Korra shook her head, averting her gaze. "I don't know. I'm just… leaving."

"Korra, you're safe here," said Howl. "Why can't you understand that this is where you belong?"

"Because I'm the Avatar?" Korra would've shouted it, hurled the words so that they shattered against his chest. But she didn't want to alert the adults. Knowing Howl, he wouldn't have ratted her out… yet. "I can't have a life because I'm the Avatar? Or is there a law I don't know about that says I have to stand back and watch an innocent friend be killed?" Her voice constricted, she continued, "Why, Howl? Why should I stay here?"

"So you'll live, survive." Howl's expression contorted to one of grief. His amber eyes burned, boring into Korra. "So that… that the people protecting you.. so that –" His voice broke. Korra's heart seemed to drop into her stomach.

"So that your mother wouldn't have died in vain," she finished for him, her voice trembling slightly. She met his eyes, clear blue against molten gold. "You don't have to remind me, Howl. How dare I forget?"

Howl looked flustered. "That's not what I meant, Korra. What happened to my mom was never your fault. I mean that and I'm here for you now. It's my duty to protect you, whatever happens."

"Then come with me!" The words burst out of her before she could stop herself. Her hands were shaking so she balled them into fists. "Please…" She took a step forward. "Please, Howl… I need to do this. They're gonna kill Naga and… I… I can't stand it anymore."

The stable was cold and it was snowing outside. A flurry of white drifted into the stable. Korra wished she could bury herself in a snow bank, wished that when it melted, she would melt with it and forget everything: Avatar training, the Order, this fortress, Katara's blood-soaked body. She bowed her head as she felt hot tears sting her eyes.

Suddenly, she felt Howl in front of her. She hadn't noticed him approach. He embraced her, holding her head gently against his chest. Normally, Korra would fight him off or crack a joke about his feminine side. This time, she just broke down, leaning into him, gripping the front of his fur cape.

Beside them, Naga started pacing back and forth behind her pen, whining slightly. She was obviously worried about Korra's sudden meltdown and the unexpected tears.

"Did you mean it?" Howl whispered after a minute or two.

"What?" Korra mumbled, trying to wipe her eyes surreptitiously on the front of his tunic.

"About me going with you… did you mean it?"

Korra looked up, astonished, forgetting that her face was tear-stained and blotchy. Howl looked back at her with a curious look in his eyes.

"Howl," Korra breathed, her breath rising in a trail of steam. For a split second, she faltered, watching the Howl's face. It was filled with expectation, hope, and something Korra couldn't quite explain, something she hadn't seen before...

A few minutes later, Korra mounted Naga, careful to wedge her bag securely between her and the saddle. Checking that the coast was clear, Korra led Naga outside of the stables, feeling the cold wind on her face. Before leaving, she looked back, just once, to see Howl half-buried in a bed of straw. He lay there, unconscious.

"Sorry, Howl," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her. "But I can't let you risk everything for me."

She left, disappearing into the night of whirling snow and darkness. In the morning, a stable boy would find the young sentry asleep in the stable. By the time they alerted the Elders, the Avatar was long gone.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Dai is not technically Asami's uncle. In the prologue, it was mentioned that Asami's mother had a second cousin. More on that is coming soon.

As for the obvious question of "Where are Bolin and Mako?!", they'll be appearing shortly in later chapters.

Thank you for reading! Love you all ~~~


	16. Survivors and Surrogates

**A/N**: I've been very busy with the upcoming holidays (mainly Chuseok), so sorry for the late update.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Survivors and Surrogates**

* * *

_5 years ago..._

* * *

"Where're we going?"

Dai looked up from his newspaper. It was the third time Asami had asked this question, and at the moment, he couldn't exactly blame her because they had been waiting in line for that last two hours, waiting for a delayed train that might never show up.

Dai sighed. "Asami, how many times do I have to tell you – I don't know yet."

Asami frowned. "That's ridiculous, you're supposed to know."

"Right now we're making it up as we go, kid, you know that." He returned to his paper, trying to find the spot where he'd left off.

"How much longer?" Asami groaned.

"It should be arriving any minute –"

"No, not the train!" Asami yanked on Dai's coat sleeve, causing him to look down again. She fixed him with a steady glare, green eyes narrowing into slits. "I mean _this_. How much longer do we have to do _this_?"

Dai fixed her with an equally dead-pan look. In the background, he heard the loud rumbling of an approaching train.

"That depends," he said just as the train entered the station, passing by with a fervent rush. Both his and Asami's hair billowed in the gust, but neither looked away – Asami didn't even blink. "How much longer do you want to live?"

* * *

_Present Day_

* * *

The moment Asami slammed the door shut behind her, she immediately felt like crap. As she slowly descended the stairs to take a breather outside, she couldn't help but feel she had crossed a line. Even though Asami did not regret her honesty, she also knew Dai wasn't purposefully torturing her. He had his own reasons.

From the moment he entered the hospital room to visit her on that very first day nearly five years ago, his was by her side. He knew of the dangerous situation she was in, knew that the Agni Kais who had butchered her family was not content with her mother alone. To get to Hiroshi, they wouldn't think twice before hurting his daughter.

Asami, then just eleven years old, was adamant, stubborn as she'd never been before. She did not want to leave Republic City or her father, whatever the lawyers and doctors insisted. Hiroshi, though she never saw him once before she eventually left the city, was deemed medically unfit to perform his duties as a legal guardian. Asami didn't buy a word of it and no one seemed willing to tell the truth. And then there was Dai.

"Asami, I know you don't want to come with me," Dai said when the two of them were alone for the first time since his arrival. "We're complete strangers. Hell, I hardly knew your mom when we were kids, let alone her daughter. But there's something you should really consider."

"What's that?" Asami snapped back aggressively, tired of people trying to tell her what to do.

"You know your old man isn't actually ill or anything, right?"

It was the first time anyone had mentioned Hiroshi without the underlined statement that he was in no condition to take visitors. Asami stared hard at Dai, trying to figure out what he was playing at.

"I'm pretty sure that, given the choice, he'd come right over and take you home," Dai continued. "But he doesn't have that choice, not anymore. He lost it when –"

"When what?" Asami croaked, her throat suddenly constricting. She leaned closer, more alert than ever. With a pleading note in her voice she pressed on, "What's going on?"

Dai hesitated for only moment. "I'm not supposed to say anything but… they arrested him for conspiring with the Agni Kais, Asami. They think he might've had a hand in the break-in."

"But he didn't mean to hurt anyone," Asami choked out, her eyes brimming with hot angry tears. "I… I w-was there… It wasn't his fault –"

Dai slowly shook his head, an unforgettable look of pity on his face. "Your father pleaded insanity and forfeited his custody of you." He placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry but I'm all you've got."

Heartbroken, Asami sat there, crying into the sheets.

The next few days were a hazy blur in Asami's memory. There was that first train ride to Ba Sing Se. Several ship rides and they arrived on the sandy shores of Ember Island where they mostly slept in an abandoned bungalow until the vacation season rolled by. They moved from one place to another, mostly off the beaten track, often sleeping on the road. Then there were times when strange men seemed to be following them, which meant they had to board the next train wherever it was going. The longest time stay they ever had was at a shrine at the Southern Air Temple when Asami was fourteen: exactly ninety-seven days.

As Asami walked around the perimeter of town inn, deep in thought, the fading image of her father and mother appeared before her like a ghostly apparition. The warm smile on Madoka's lips, Hiroshi's winking eyes. She revisited the same uncertainties, the same unbearable questions that spun around her head. What if by leaving, she had ruined the chances of her father changing his mind? What if, during all this time, she had simply been running from the truth?

Gazing up at the star-glazed sky high up above, Asami breathed in the cool night air. Her strides slowed to a halt as a lone cloud obscured the moon, drinking up the light. Bowing her head, she made a birthday wish, the same one for the fifth year running. She wished that her father still loved her, and – though she hated herself for hoping – that it somehow mattered that she loved him too.

* * *

...

* * *

There had been several attempts in the last few years to explain the strange phenomena commonly referred to as "Specs". Politicians vying for a term in office would often make vague promises of solving the "Special Bender Dilemma". Ambitious scholars would publish papers on the causes of the Special Bender condition, whether philosophically or physiologically. But no one could pin-point exactly what made people who they were. Or what they were.

In urban cities where gangs and mobs thrived, it was common practice to round up Specs, to be traded around or else trained to obey. Hunters were a vital part of the operation, such that the demand and competition for skilled Hunters was just as high among the triads.

However, not everyone agreed with this brutal treatment of Specs. In fact, there were Hunters that opposed the triads, finding Specs before they could fall victim to the Triple Threats or the Agni Kais. One such group of Hunters formed an underground operation in the heart of Republic City. They called themselves the Survivors.

Their headquarters were located in a section of the Shopping District of Republic City which had been ravaged, courtesy of the Triad Wars which had occurred there nearly ten years ago. The forlorn shell of a hotel – the name of which was as lost as the sign – stood in the middle of what was once bustling street. The building was flanked by an abandoned patisserie and a luxury café with a caved-in roof, the relics of a lost era. This resonated with the Survivors, who were also lost in a world that valued their price instead of their worth.

The organization was maintained by a group of volunteers who called themselves the Surrogates. Their main job was to rescue Specs in danger, occasionally sabotage a Hunter operation, and, most importantly, provide a safe place for young Special Benders on the run. Sometimes the hotel was a dangerous place to be, for there were times when the abandoned building was the chosen site of a body dump or even cartel exchange. However, to a Spec who had nowhere to go, it was a start, if not a safe haven.

Most of the Survivors were children between the ages of six and twelve but there were those in their late teens as well. With hormones, teenage angst, and restless Spec powers running high, it was the typical morning for a fight to break out in one of the designated dorm rooms.

Today was no exception.

In a fifteenth-floor suite room, two boys in their teens wrestled onto the floor, a ball of fists and angry growls. A small crowd of kids gathered along the sidelines, some of them egging the teenagers on, others looking frightened and pale. One of the teenagers, a bulky boy with a broad nose, tried to grab the other boy's neck, only to have his hand bitten.

"AArrrrghgh!" the thickset boy shouted, trying to throw the other boy off.

"Should we call a Surrogate?" squeaked a seven-year-old girl with wispy hair, wide-eyed with fear.

As though on cue, a man sauntered into the room, looking mildly interested at the two boys. The thickset one, who also happened to be the shorter of the two, was now caught in a headlock and was attempting pry off the arms around his neck.

"Ah, c'mon, Phong, you can do better than that!" said the Surrogate at the boy caught in the headlock. He grinned when the two teenagers looked up at him with an alarmed expression, and then broke apart, breathing heavily.

The man approached him, his eyes – one green, the other a light gray – moved from Phong's sweaty face to the taller boy who had an angry red scratch down his neck. Small beads of crimson were forming along the line but the boy hardly seemed to notice, simply watching the Surrogate with a mixture of shame and apprehension.

"All of you, get back to whatever you were doing," the man said to the other children. When all the onlookers had scampered off, he addressed the two boys. "Do I even _want_ to know what's going on?"

"He started it, Loc, I didn't do anything!" Phong said, pointing an accusatory finger at the other boy. "He just attacked me for no reason!'

"Liar!" spat the other boy, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You were messing around with my stuff!"

"I was just looking around and he went crazy –"

"Enough!" shouted Loc, holding up both hands. Both teenagers fell silence but still glared at each other. "You two are both on watch duty from now on for being a couple of _idiots_. No excuses, Phong –" he added as Phong opened his mouth to protest. "I'm going easy on you two for not using your Bending."

"But he's not even a Bender!" said Phong.

"Well, lucky for you, 'cause you were getting your ass kicked," said Loc pointedly, making Phong flush with embarrassment. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."

With a furious growl, Phong stormed from the room before another word could be said.

"And you –" Loc turned to the other boy. "Get that cut checked by Ae Jeong before it –"

"I'm fine," snapped the teenager, turning to leave. He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not going to ask you again, Mako, and not just about this," Loc said warningly. His odd eyes met Mako's amber ones before adding with a slight edge, "You step out of line again and you're done here, you got that?"

The two stared at each other for a solid ten seconds. Then, Mako shrugged the hand off and left without another word. Loc watched him go, listening as the footsteps faded away.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: I need help naming people. I keep going on baby name websites, which is where I picked up the name 'Loc'. It's a Vietnamese name meaning 'blessing', apparently. Anyways, if you have any names to share, feel free to tell me. Make sure to mention whether the name is a female's or male's. Thanks!


	17. When Fear Comes Knocking

**A/N: **Exams are finally over. I wrote this as quickly as I can, please excuse the grammar, I haven't been able to check. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter Five: When Fear Comes Knocking**

* * *

Dai paced slowly back and forth in his room, mulling over what Asami had told him. The first time he met her in that hospital bed, he recognized a spark in her, something powerful in that young body that marked her as fighter. Her ultimatum wasn't so surprising after what she'd been through. The fact that she had put up with this life – this joke of a life – for so long was an achievement on its own. But he was afraid. What if it was too late?

A sudden rattle at the window startled him. He stared at the single window which was half-covered in a tattered curtain with faded floral patterns. It was pitch black outside, not a hint of a streetlamp's dull glow. Just the blank stretch of black canvas and maybe this – the haunting emptiness and mystery – was what unnerved him the most. He remembered a passage he had once read, and which he had even carved on his bedpost as a small boy. He repeated this softly as he took slow steps towards the window, willing his heart to stop drumming so quickly.

"_Come, the night, on frosted moons_," he whispered, heart pounding at his temple. "_And as the sweet glow slowly wanes._" He was now a mere three paces away, the stains on the curtain quite prominent now. "_And hallowed beasts' encrusted crown._" Two paces. "_So the cries fade ghostly drawn__._" One pace. "_Answer me…_" He could see his reflection in the gap of window pane.

A second passed. Then two.

With a jerk of his wrist, he parted the curtains, willing his eyes to feign courage, to stare death straight in the eye –

Nothing. An overwhelming relief washed over Dai as he stood facing the window, his own reflection staring back at him. He was about to turn, fully intent on retiring to his armchair, and perhaps think of a way to persuade Asami to stay, when something grabbed him by the neck and slammed him face first into the window.

With a cry of anguish, his forehead cracked one of the window panes before he fell backwards onto the floor, his cut brow wet with blood. He could barely see for pain, his world a blinding flash of lights.

Someone grabbed him by the arm, half-threw him across the room. He landed in a heap by the sagging bed, winded by the hard landing. Behind him, footsteps. Coming closer. Dai crouched low, taking shallow breaths, then –

"You should finish that pretty poem," a voice spoke, so icy cold and mirthless that the temperature seemed to drop with every syllable. The footsteps stopped short of where Dai lay slumped, unable to hold his head up, to plea or beg. "_Answer me_, and then what?"

"Then _what_?" repeated the voice, barely a whisper and yet more menacing than a shout.

Dai too afraid to face his assailant, kept his head bowed, sweat pouring down his neck and temple. His time, he now understood, had always been numbered. There was no outrunning, bargaining, or outwitting the night away. In the end, the sun eventually sets, and blood glows thick upon the horizon.

"_Answer me_," he croaked, sweat dripping down his neck, "_for death draws near, and life –_"

" – _and_ _life itself_," she recited for him, her prominent gray eyes piercing him like a scythe, "_is_ gone."

* * *

**Republic City**

* * *

Mako sat alone on the edge of a twenty-story building, looking out at the expanse of markets and stores; miniscule people bustling about in muted outerwear; the endless line of automobiles, all lined up like glittering beads on a necklace. All of it was blanketed in a sheet of dusty smog as the factories smokestacks belched their dark clouds skyward.

His legs dangled over the edge of the wall. If he slipped, he would probably land in a dumpster which – from Mako's vantage point – looked like nothing more than a postage stamp. He wondered what it would feel like, jumping off a building. Terrifying? Exhilarating? _Liberating_?

Sliding a hand into a pocket of his pants which had been patched over many times, he drew out a lighter, small in size and silver. Over the years, the little lighter had become a little dented at the corners and had lost some of its original gleam. He held it in the palm of his hand, gently moving a thumb over the insignia on the front, lost in thought.

The insignia was something Mako had recognized only after he'd been extracted from the rubble of Sato Manor. What looked like a sunrise was embossed on a shield. Of course, that semicircle was actually half a gear, its cogs resembling the outstretched rays of sunlight. It was the symbol of a once-great enterprise and its founder, the same person who had tried to exchange Bolin to protect his own family.

As the raucous racket of horns blared incessantly from the nearest traffic jam, Mako flipped open the hinged top of the lighter, examining the wick within the protruding windscreen. Gently, he placed his thumb the little thumbwheel, and tried to work up the courage to spin it. _Maybe_, he thought desperately, _I'll be okay this time_. He had repeated the same words numerous times over the last five years, using this exact method to test himself. Despite his fervent hope that somehow, this was a war he could win, all the signs were quite clear: Mako was a Pyro, and exposure of his status seemed imminent.

He recalled the moment mere hours previously. The morning had been quite uneventful and he'd just returned from a quick shower (water was limited at HQ), he had stumbled upon Phong kneeling beside Mako's bed, curiously examining the lighter Mako kept hidden beneath his side table.

In hindsight, Mako knew full well that Phong had probably found the lighter by accident. It would have been the easiest thing to politely ask Phong for his lighter back. Phong, though clearly the largest Survivor and sometimes a headache to deal with, was in no way an unreasonable character and probably would have returned it without a fuss. The fight, regardless of how it ended with Loc's intervention, could – should – have been avoided entirely.

But times were changing quickly and Mako could no longer control his growing rage. Just a few years ago, it had taken less than a sharp inhale of breath to quell his rising temper but now it was almost impossible not to blank out completely. It wasn't long before he was incapable of Firebending without experiencing a dreadful feeling of numbness, almost as though he was in a trance, his own flames enticing him to give in to their destructive nature. Though he tried to push it from his mind, he knew deep down that he was slowly transforming into a full-fledged monster.

A loud crash brought Mako out of his reverie. A few streets down, two cars were fused together by the bumpers. Black smoke billowed from the hoods and a shouting match quickly ensued between the drivers and other passengers. As he sat watching the scene, he found it incredible that there were still people leading ordinary lives, who had the luxury of venting anger and spewing obscenities without fear of burning down an entire city block.

Mako fingered the lighter's insignia again, feeling the edges of the cogs, the smoothness of the surface. Compared to Mako's quickly rusting life, the lighter was perfection. It was, he thought, yet another reminder of something he wasn't, something he could never be.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Inside the office of a small downtown pharmacy, a young boy and a girl were huddled around a basin filled to the brim with water. With a pinched look of concentration, the girl placed her hand in the water, her palm flat against the clear surface. She closed her eyes as the boy watched her with an expression of quiet awe.

"Do you see anything?" the boy asked, his green eyes wide with curiosity.

The girl did not speak but merely exhaled slowly; her eyelids fluttered. For a moment, the boy and girl stood there in front of the basin, the boy looking from the girl's expression the surface of the water while the girl kept her eyes closed.

Then all of a sudden, the water began to rise and ripple, breaking the glassy-smooth surface. And yet, as the boy watched with unblinking eyes, the girl's hand did not move at all. Patterns formed on the surface now, interchanging between circular whirls and serpentine curves. To the boy's astonishment, the water began to glow brightest white along the lines of swirls and curls, illuminating the girl's hand which was as still as ever.

"I see something," she breathed suddenly and the patterns changed, becoming more rigid lines cutting through the surface.

"What is it?" the boy asked quietly.

"It's all white…" the girl replied. At her words, the patterns disappeared and the water began to bubble like it was being boiled. Air bubbles burst at the surface, spraying their faces with cold water. "There's a girl there too and… and she's lost…"

"BOLIN! KRIA!"

The two children jumped, knocking the basin to the floor. Water pooled around their feet and there was a frantic scramble as Kria quickly Waterbended the mess back into the sink and Bolin hid the basin inside a storage closet. Just when they had finished, the office door opened and a woman entered.

"There you are," she said, looking harried. "Look, I need you two to carry a bunch of supplies back to HQ for me." Lowing her voice significantly she added, "There's a new Survivor coming in later today and I'll have my hands completely full."

"Maybe we could stay and help, Ae Jeong," said Kria immediately, eager to meet the new Spec.

Ae Jeong shook her head. "Nope. No can do. There's not much help you can give when the patient's a Spec, I can guarantee that."

Dejected, Kria left the office with Bolin at her side. The two of them loaded a box each with some iodine, disinfectants, gauze, and other supplies before leaving through the back entrance which was connected to a discreet alleyway behind the pharmacy.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Bolin broached the subject of their secret experiment back in the office.

"So, what was it you saw?" Bolin asked as they rounded a corner.

Kria hesitated for a brief moment before replying, "I'm not entirely sure but I think it might have been… snow."

"Snow?"

"White. That's really all I saw. That's why I thought – but then there was this girl…"

"Do you know her?" Bolin asked.

Kria shook her head. "No. I've never seen her before in real life or another vision."

They lapsed into silence once more. The hotel building was now in sight and they were careful to pick the alleys carefully. Usually the Surrogates were careful to keep the area clear of any dangers but sometimes, random triad thugs were known to wander through, drunk and boorish, looking for a quiet place to relieve themselves.

"Do you ever get scared?" Bolin asked.

"Scared of what?" Kria asked, though she knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

"Scared of your powers." Bolin shifted the box awkwardly in his arms. "I mean, not that your powers are scary or anything –"

"I saw it happen, you know. Saw my parents die right in front of me before it actually happened. I was taking a bath and I didn't know I was… that I could do this sort of thing. It was the worst thing that I ever saw, even after I saw the real thing happen." Kria inhaled sharply at the thought. "But no, it's not my powers I'm scared of, Bo. What scares me is the fact that people can be monsters in real life, not just in nightmares."

They reached the rear entrance of the hotel. A middle-aged man was lurking behind an upended dumpster. When they approached, he stepped out of hiding place to greet them.

"Hey, Bo. Kria." The middle-aged man was short and well-built, a stubbled chin jutting out beneath an amiable grin. "Whatcha got there?"

"Just some medical supplies," Bolin answered, opening up the contents of his own box.

After a quick inspection of both the boxes and the children, the guard waved them inside and resumed his spot just behind the dumpster. Kria and Bolin headed inside the dark and gloomy reception area of the hotel which, despite the thick layer of dust, still might have looked grand with the lights on. Bolin, however, kept his eyes on the carpet as he briskly walked towards the stairs.

"What was that?" asked Kria when they reached the third floor elevators. Bolin pretended not to hear her as he felt around the wall for a concealed switch to activate the elevators. She pressed on, "I mean, fine, if you're scared of the dark, I'm not going to judge you or anything."

"I'm not scared of the dark," said Bolin as the elevator doors slid open and they got on.

"Uh, then what's with the running away from the creepy reception area?"

Bolin hesitated, his insides writhing though perhaps that was just the effect of the elevator's ascent. But in the end, Kria's reminder that she had willingly answered his probing questions left him no choice but to tell the truth.

"There was one time when I was in this big house, a lot like the reception area except cleaner. People came for me like they did with my parents. And then something happened and I couldn't control it."

He could still see it. The blood, the cracks on the floor, the ceiling splitting apart. The bodies. Dead bodies, all because of him. Crushed like ants beneath the marble.

Kria had said she was afraid of the monsters in real life, the people who slaughtered others to catch the Specs. Bolin thought differently. Monsters in real life, you could deal with. The monsters in your nightmare couldn't hurt you. Sometimes the scariest thought was that there were no monsters in reality or dreams but that the world was a void – all except yourself and the fear of what you were.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Kria is a Waterbender Spec with power to see the near future related to either herself or those around her. She can only see visions when she is in direct contact with water.


	18. A Familiar Face

**A/N**: Update time! I've been spending most of my time watching copious amounts of Person of Interest, The Voice, and Youtube vids of Assassin's Creed 3. Somehow I managed to shake off the lazy long enough to write this. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Six: A Familiar Face**

* * *

_**The South Pole**_

* * *

Growing up in the Southern Water Tribe, Korra could never get enough of snow. When she was still living in her own village, the other children would wear out in a matter of a few short hours, gladly running to towards the sound of their parents calling for them to come inside for hot stew and tea. Korra on the other hand, would coolly turn a deaf ear to the voice of her parents, playing by herself in the empty fields of snow – perhaps inside an ice sculpture of her own design – until her angry mother came to extricate her from the frigid fortress and practically drag her home. Water was her native element and, or so Korra had naively believed, an inherent part of her – her next of kin, so to speak.

But in her current situation, she could do nothing to keep her teeth chattering against the freezing cold as she kept her head down as much as possible, Naga straining in the blistering wind, moving inch by excruciatingly freezing inch. They had been traveling for no more than seven hours and already, Korra had half a mind to run straight back to the OWL Fortress, crawl into her warm bed, and pretend that everything would be fine when she woke up the next day. But, even as she braced the unforgiving wind of the arctic tundra, she held onto Naga, her best friend, and knew that her sweet Polar Bear Dog friend would surely die if she were to set one paw back where people knew her as nothing more or less than Master Katara's killer. Turning back was not an option.

After what felt like a day submerged in ice water, Korra dismounted Naga and Waterbended a tunnel through the biggest snowbank she could find, ushering an exhausted Naga into the modest burrow. Naga lumbered into the very inside of the makeshift burrow and curled up onto the snow while Korra fought her stiff muscles, bending some snow to block the night wind. Then, tired and famished, she crawled on all fours to where Naga was sleeping and cuddled up next to the mass of white fur. She fell asleep at once, not for a second wondering where she was going or what would happen next.

* * *

_**Republic City**_

_5 years ago_

* * *

Everyone knew about the Hundred Year War, when nothing was certain and everything was at stake. Legends, bedtime stories, and historical accounts painted the picture of the heroic people who defended the innocent, slayed the evil, and brought balance to the world.

But there were things that were also left out, things that made Ona wonder as she lay helplessly on the floor, surrounded by bodies, blood and huge chunks of the ceiling. As the screeching wail of the mansion's self-destruction filled her ears, she wondered: What of the casualties? Who carried the fallen once the dust had settled? What became of their bodies, their legacy, their names?

Through a haze of nausea and dust, she spotted one of her henchmen lying with his neck snapped back at an odd angle, blood pooling where his skull had cracked open. No one would remember who he was, why he had fought, nor where he had fallen. A casualty of war was missed by few, forgotten by time and could never ever be resurrected. Like cold water trickling into the recesses of her heart, she knew that it was only a matter of time before she too joined them.

Ona struggled, trying to summon the strength to free her arm which was stuck between the cracked floor and a slab of marble. Her breathing was shallow as she registered a sharp pain in her thigh. A bent piece of metal – possibly a mangled wall decoration – had pierced her leg. Her clothes were soaking up her own blood, the smell dizzyingly strong.

With a sudden, earthshattering crash, a beam toppled over like felled tree. It fell directly on top of the marble slab and her trapped arm beneath it. A blinding current of shock shot through her entire body, disconnecting her from all reality. Her mind was spinning, reeling from the pain of her arm splitting beneath the marble slab, the splintering of every single bone lost in the wail of the shrieking mansion. The last thing she remembered was clutching at the nearest thing in front of her – a jagged shard of glass – and ending the pain the only way she could.

* * *

_**The Town, Earth Kingdom**_

_Present day_

* * *

Asami woke with a start. She could remember a terrible dream where she walked back towards the inn. From the shadows someone grabbed her, muffling her cry of shock before knocking her out cold. Her temple was pounding ceaselessly, numbing her thoughts.

Suddenly, Asami became aware of her surroundings, similar to the room where she had left Dai but with a slightly different layout. With a crash of dread, her recollections sharpened enough for her to realize that none of it had been a dream. She tried to rise but her arms and legs were bound to a chair.

"Dai?" she called out hoarsely into the dim room. The room was small but her voice echoed in the gloom, calling back to her like a taunt. "Dai! Can you hear me?"

"He won't answer," came an eerily familiar voice. It sent a chill down Asami's spine who strained to locate where the voice had issued from. Then, just when she was convinced it was a side effect of her concussion, the voice added, "I'm right here."

Out of the gloom stepped a figure, not a tall menacing giant Spirit but a short woman wearing a hooded half-cape draped over her left shoulder and arm. In her right hand she held a serrated silver blade by the tips of her gloved fingers, swinging it back and forth like a ticking clock's pendulum. The tap of taupe leather boots upon the wooden floor was the only sound made as the figure approached, the only candle bracket on the wall flickering over her cold gray eyes.

"I… I know you," Asami whispered when the figure was standing directly in front of her. There was no doubt about it. After five years, Asami would have recognized the intensity of those gray eyes anywhere. "You…" Her voice caught in her throat but she bit out her words, each syllable laced with arsenic. "You killed my mother."

The figure removed the hood with her right hand. Ona's eyes were the precise shade of icy gray that they had been on the night Madoka had died. Her hair was so short that it barely grazed her shoulders and a thin white line extended from the corner of the left eye down to her cheek like a single tear trail, immortalized in scar tissue.

"What did you do to him?" Asami said, trying to keep her breathing steady.

Ona shrugged. "Nothing I shouldn't have done."

"Where is he?" Asami spat through gritted teeth, forcing angry tears from spilling forth. "I swear, if you lay on a hand on him –"

"You don't even know him, Asami," Ona interrupted softly, as though gently explaining to a stubborn child that their imaginary friends weren't real.

"He's family!" The outburst echoed around the still room, shaking dust from the ceiling. Asami struggled, but all she accomplished was nearly falling backwards.

Ona chuckled, a pitiless laugh. Asami's blood ran cold. Was he already dead?

"He's still breathing," Ona said as though she'd read Asami's mind. "But will you still want that when you learn the truth?"

"What truth? What're you talking about?"

Ona lifted her right hand and, with a small clink, opened a switchblade. She held the serrated edge to Asami's throat, wresting her thumb beneath the flat side.

"First things first," Ona whispered, leaning closer to Asami who glowered back. "How much has he told you?"

"About what?"

Ona's formed a slight smirk. "Let's find out."

* * *

**...**

* * *

Dai woke groggily, feeling sore all over but definitely alive. Though slightly dizzy, he could feel his cheek pressing down on the gritty surface of dusty floorboards. Flexing his wrists, he found that they were bound rather tightly behind his back. His eyes opened about a millimeter, trying to see where he was. The split second he felt rather than saw someone's presence, he feigned unconsciousness again.

"Let's not play this game," sighed a female voice, one Dai recognized immediately as belonging to his attacker. He opened his eyes and raised his head to see Ona observing him from above, head tilted to one side with a stoic look upon her face.

"You're not here to kill me," said Dai. It wasn't a question though for a half second he had doubted it.

"No." Ona stepped away out of view. As she moved, her half-cape slipped a little and Dai caught a glimpse of her left arm which ended in a stub, cut off above the elbow. "You wouldn't be alive otherwise."

Dai let out a shallow breath of air, calculating his options. There weren't many but he wasn't about to give up. "I'll tell you everything you need to know," he said slowly, keeping a straight face. "Just let me go."

"Cute." Ona walked around him full circle. Dai stayed where he was, waiting until Ona stopped directly in front of him again. "But we both know how this is going to play out."

"How's that?"

"First, I'll ask a question. Then you'll lie. I'll beat the hell out of you and ask again. You'll lie again. And again… and again… Because as much as it pains for me to say this, orders are orders, so I can't end your miserable worthless life."

"Shame. Should've retired when you still had the chance."

"Oh, don't waste your pity on me just yet. Turns out I've had a contingency plan all along."

Dai scoffed, feeling copper at the back of his mouth. He ignored it. "Yeah, what's that? Bring an accomplice along to finish your dirty work for you?"

He was surprised at the sight of a small smirk spreading across Ona's lips.

"Actually," she said, walking over to the door and placing her one hand upon the handle. "She's one of yours."

The door opened to reveal Asami standing just outside the threshold. One look at her face told him everything he needed to know. _She knew_. As if any more confirmation was needed, she was holding a serrated blade in one hand, a silver switchblade which could gut a Komodo Rhino in seconds.

Asami did not speak but merely stood there, staring at Dai with deadpan expression, switchblade in hand.

"You have fifteen minutes," said Ona as she left. Dai heard the lock click behind her.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: So... what do you think? What will happen to Korra? What did Ona tell Asami? (Seriously, I'm asking because I'm running low on ideas ^^;;) But anyways, drop me a line, ask any question that isn't too spoiler-ish, and make sure to Follow/Favorite this story if you haven't already.

Thanks again for reading~!


	19. Dai's Deception

**A/N_:_ **I know you guys came for Bolin and Mako but I seriously needed to get this out of the way before continuing with the plot! Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Dai's Deception**

* * *

_Earlier_

* * *

Ona threw something into Asami's open lap. Instinctively, Asami recoiled, expected any number of objects: a bomb, a poisonous Viper Rat, a human hand, etc. She was surprised to find that it was an ordinary envelope, perhaps a shade dark around the corners due to water damage, but quite unthreatening. The seal was already broken, only small traces of the mud-colored wax stuck to the upper flap like the caked remnants of poorly applied lipstick. Asami, who still had her hands bound to the chair, examined it briefly without touching it.

"What is this?" she asked suspiciously, half-expecting it to catch fire at any moment.

Ignoring Asami's question, Ona slowly held up the switchblade she was holding and brought it down with swift precision. It missed Asami's wrist by a hair's width and cleanly severed the rope binding her right hand to the chair arm. Before Asami could do more than blink in surprise, Ona deftly pulled the knife back out by the tip of its handle.

"You're arm," Asami blurted as Ona's cape moved slightly as she stepped back.

Ona pushed aside the cape with the handle of the switchblade like a curtain being swept back on a hidden display. Behind the curtain was Ona's left arm – a stub wrapped in a pinned up sleeve, stopping just above where the elbow should have been.

"Satisfied?" She let the cape fall back in place. "Now, where were we?"

Asami looked back down at the momentarily forgotten envelope which was still lying patiently on her lap. Still unsure of the contents, Asami gingerly lifted the upper flap with her forefinger, leaning back slightly in case it suddenly squirt acid in her face.

"Wow, he's _really_ got to you, hasn't he?" Ona sighed, snatching the envelope from Asami. Using only her right hand, she tipped the envelope upside down so that the contents slid into her palm. She gripped what looked like a stack of postcards between her forefinger and thumb while deftly separating it from the empty envelope which she held between her third and fourth fingers.

When Ona handed back the contents of the envelope, Asami realized that they weren't postcards but photographs. The first few pictures had no fewer than six people crammed into each shot, all of them wearing formal attire in varying degrees of grandiosity. There was one person Asami recognized immediately and a strange mixture of happiness and sorrow welled up inside her.

"Mom…" Asami held up one of the photographs, staring at the image of her mother. With trembling fingers, she traced her mother's black-and-white face, younger and more vibrant than Asami could remember.

Eager to see more of her mother, Asami clumsily shuffled through the pictures with her one free hand. In each picture, her mother – radiant in her youth and beauty – was always at the center of attention but there was also one other person who caught her eye. A man who smiled sheepishly in half the photographs was always standing near Madoka. Tall and lanky with bushy eyebrows and a thick toothbrush mustache to match, there was a subtle hardness to his square jawline and warmth in his awkward smile that reminded Asami of her mother..

"Who is this man?" Asami asked Ona, holding up a photo of her mother sitting side by side the mysterious character.

Ona, who was watching Asami, did not even glance at the photograph before answering.

"That man is a relative of yours through your mother's line." Ona paused briefly before continuing, "Not one of your closest kin, but you already know him, don't you?"

Asami shook her head, returning to the photograph. "No, I've never seen this man before."

"Strange," said Ona casually, walking slowly around Asami. "I seem to recall you mentioning a name earlier. What was it again?"

"If you're talking about Dai, this isn't him," said Asami, flipping through the pictures as she did so. "This guy doesn't even resemble –"

She stopped, her eyes fixated on a photograph at the very back of the stack. Madoka was smiling radiantly somewhere off to the side. She was frozen in mid-clap along with the rest of the room, applauding two men dressed – not in flamboyant eveningwear – but matching dress uniforms with the same order insignia embellishing their coats. Both were standing straight, saluting the camera with warm grins.

"He's here," said Asami. The next photo was of Dai was standing in profile, facing the other man who seemed to be laughing at something. She turned over the photograph. A hastily scrawled note in faded ink read: _Congrats, officers of the UF!_ "The UF?"

"United Forces," replied Ona, peering over Asami's shoulder. "Surprisingly enough, those two started out in the same branch but ended up following very different paths. One of them became general and the other one…"

With a feeling of trepidation, Asami reached the very back of the stack. It had obviously been taken several years after the other ones judging by the improved quality of the photograph. However, the clearness only added to the confusion as she stared down at the row of faces. Most of them were people she did not know – except two. One was clearly Ona, her piercing gaze prominent, her left arm still intact. But it was the person at the end of this lineup – someone so familiar it made Asami's head spin – who caught her eye: Dai whom she trusted and knew – _thought_ she knew.

The rest of the photographs slipped from her lap and cascaded down her legs, scattering all over the floor. Asami's hand shook, unable to look away from the black-and-white figures. No matter how long she stared at it, Dai's face did not change and neither did any of the others. She realized that she was looking at a line-up of Agni Kai members, a tapestry of the Agni Kai insignia visible in the background.

Slowly, with a mixture of dread and morbid fascination – like watching her own hand stretch out to touch a heated grate – Asami turned the picture over. Scrawled in black ink was the inscription _NEW RECRUITS_ followed by a list of names. Her eyes lingered for only a brief second on Ona's before continuing onto the last and final name.

"Ty Rhan…" Asami whispered, a sudden upsurge of hot tears trailing down her cheeks. "I… I don't understand."

"It's simple," said Ona matter-of-factly. "Ty Rhan worked as an intelligence officer for UF for several years before joining the Agni Kai triad. Give his previous line of work, it was easy for him to impersonate your relative. He only needed to swap a few key photographs with his own in case anyone bothered to check the files. But it didn't matter anyway so long as he smuggled you out of the city before people discovered the real General Dai's bloated corpse washed up on the shores of the Boiling Rock. My guess is that Ty Rhan pulled a few strings with some old contacts in the UF."

"But why?" Asami choked out, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Why did he do it? Why lie to me and run –"

"For money. It was ingenious, actually, the lengths he went to put his little plan into motion. He found out about your father's little secret around the same time we were hunting a young Earthbender Spec who happened to cross paths with your family. Although Ty Rhan, General Dai, and your mother hadn't corresponded in a while, Ty Rhan remembered how close General Dai had been with your mother. So close, in fact, that Ty Rhan was sure Madoka would leave a large sum of money for him in her will."

"But you're the one who killed her," said Asami, her puffy red eyes glaring at Ona. "You were in it on it, weren't you?"

Ona frowned. "You really shouldn't judge a tree from a few brown leaves. Money holds no value so long as you have power. Most are blind to this fact and Ty Rhan was no exception. He covertly passed along false information that ensured Madoka Sato's death. I just happened to be the one to carry out the orders." She paused. "I did not know."

"An honest mistake, I'm sure." Asami's words were acidic and full of loathing.

"The aftermath of that night's events were unexpected but worked to Ty Rhan's advantage either way. When he found out that you had survived and that General Dai was your only living relative apart from your father, he impersonated him and forged a few papers to gain access to you. The truth is that your mother left far less to her second cousin than Ty Rhan had hoped although it was still substantial amount. He planned to take you and keep you hidden until you came of age to claim your inheritance. Needless to stay, the amount would have been enough to set him up for the remainder of his life. All he needed was you and your trust for the next seven years."

"That's a lie!" Asami couldn't help but shout. She was shaking from the anger and she tried to get up before remembering that she was still tied down. Her one free hand tried clawing at the thick ropes binding her other arm with no avail. "He was keeping me safe from the likes of you!"

Ona laughed, amused. "Are you really so naïve? After everything he did, do you think the only thing he had to worry about was hiding you? Of course, keeping you under the impression that you were in constant danger would make you more dependent. However, he could just have easily kept you in a secure location with a servant while he went off to enjoy his own life.

"But there are some things harder to run from than a bunch of clueless law officials looking for an 11-year-old heiress and an imposter. When the leader of the Agni Kais found out about Ty Rhan's treachery, he sent agents to look for him. Of course, you know the rest. He's been running for the past five years, dragging you along under the pretense of protecting you. He might have gotten away with too it if he hadn't come back to Republic City last year."

Asami remembered. It was the first and last time they had ever stayed in one spot for more than a few days. After settling in at an abandoned shrine in the Southern Air Temples, she had been so elated that she hadn't bothered to question Dai's mysterious trips away, sometimes without explanation and for several days at a time. They had been there just over three months before a night came when Dai suddenly shook Asami awake in the dead of night, pale and clearly disturbed. They had left barely half an hour later, not stopping until they reached a harbor.

"It was you," said Asami softly. "You were there at the Southern Air Temple."

Ona shook her head. "It was one of the Agni Kai agents to find you. Ty Rhan got away but it wasn't too difficult to track you two from then on."

Tears flowed nonstop down Asami's face. Her hands curled into fists, fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. Her whole body shook, her heart constricting as the whole universe as she had known it peeled away like old wallpaper. She was now looking through a window of truth into a void of deception, lies and conspiracy. And there she stood in the middle of it all, broken and quite alone.

It seemed incredible that on the same day that Asami had finally decided to forgive her father for his double life, she was learning of yet another betrayal. The old wounds burst open, and Asami could do nothing but watch quietly as her hemorrhaging soul drained her, leaving nothing but dejection, hatred, and self-pity.

"Why are you telling me this?" Asami asked when she felt she could bleed no more. "Why… You could have just… just killed both of us…"

Asami hadn't really expected an answer and did not look up when she heard Ona move closer. It was not until Ona pulled the ropes away that Asami realized that her arms and ankles no longer bound to the chair. But Asami might as well have been chained to a cave wall for all the freedom she felt.

"There is one other thing Ty Rhan lied to you about," said Ona. "It's about your father. He's not in an asylum and, as far as I know, never gave up custody of you."

"H-he didn't?" Asami stammered. "Then… where is he?"

Ona took the switchblade, folded it, and handed it to Asami who stared at it blankly before taking it with trembling fingers.

Ona grinned. "Why don't you ask Ty Rhan?"

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: So... the big secret is out. I know some of you guessed correctly who Imposter Dai was so congratulations for getting it right!

I will be covering Korra's story as well as Mako and Bolin's so hang in there! Lots of bromance to make up for the wait ;)


	20. White Lies

**A/N**: Just a heads up: I might not be updating for a while because I have exams coming up.

As always, enjoy the chapter and THANK YOU!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: White Lies**

* * *

The nearest seaport from the White Lotus Fortress was in a large fishing town about half a day's journey away. The town was called Hakoda, named after the Southern Water Tribe Chief who helped end the Hundred Year War alongside his two children, one of which was the late Master Katara herself.

The sleepy town was snowed in, blanketed in thick sheets of ice. Korra and Naga arrived at the crack of dawn. Both tired and ravenous but Korra was reluctant to approach any of the stores for fear that the Order had already alerted someone to look out for an escaped giant Polar Bear Dog.

Without stopping to rest despite Naga's whining, Korra dismounted and continued on foot, dragging Naga along with her. She reached the harbor's lone ticket booth which was shuttered with an unapologetic CLOSED sign propped behind the window. Undeterred, Korra knocked loudly on the glass, one hand still holding tight to Naga's reigns.

"Ah, can't ya read, lass?" The shutter went up with a clatter and an irritable old man appeared behind the booth window wearing a pair of fluffy white earmuffs. "You're gonna have to wait til tomorrow, all the passenger ships have set sail already."

"What about that one?" asked Korra, pointing at a large vessel that was waiting patiently in the icy waves.

"Lassie, that there's a cargo ship, that is," replied the old man with a touch of exasperation. "Like I said, you'll have to wait until –"

"But this is an emergency!" said Korra, ignoring Naga who was straining against the reign. "I have – orders!" she improvised hastily, putting on her most earnest face.

"And what sort of orders might those be, eh?" asked the old man, scrutinizing both Korra and Naga through the glass.

"It's this Polar Bear Dog!" Korra gestured at Naga who was sniffing the cold air hopefully. "She's really ill – some sort of rare Polar Bear Dog virus or something – and I've got orders to get her on the next ship out of here." When the old man looked back at her with a look of incredulity she added, "It's so urgent, in fact, that Elder Gappak himself entrusted me – his most trustworthy sentry – to accompany her on the voyage."

"Elder Gappak?" said the old man, his bushy eyebrows rising comically. "_The_ Elder Gappak? Leader of the White Lotus?"

"Yeah, who else is there?" said Korra rolling her eyes, internally relieved that her name-dropping had hit a gold mine. "Listen, I'm just the carrier, okay? If you don't believe me, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you when the Order comes and –"

"All right, all right!" The old man rummaged around in his desk for a few minutes before drawing out some forms. He filled them out with unnecessary force, attacking it with a pen as though the paper had caused him some personal harm. "Look, that ship normally doesn't take any live cargo so you'll have to keep that thing in line for a few days until you reach Republic City Harbor, okay?"

"She's very tame –"

"Good, 'cause it ain't my problem from this point on, ya hear me?"

The man shoved the completed form through the window slot before drawing the shutters down with a resounding crash. Korra stood in front of the window for a moment, clutching the form in her gloved hands.

"Naga," she whispered excitedly, turning to the Polar Bear Dog who was now lying on the ground, looking glum. "Chin up, girl! I think I just found our ticket out of here!"

* * *

_**Republic City**_

* * *

Mako watched the dark street below from his place on the roof of the hotel building which served as Survivor Headquarters. It was a chilly night but Mako was only wearing a thin jacket. He did not complain. Instead, he concentrated on the glow of streetlamps which were the only source of illumination in this abandoned part of the neighborhood. Somewhere on the street below was Phong who was probably still cursing Mako's name for the starting the fight which had landed them in the all-night guard duty.

For the better part of the past hour, Mako had taken to walking the perimeter of the roof, running his hand over the brick border. Keeping an eye on the completely deserted street below, he counted each brick as he walked by, not bothering to stop when he came full circle. When the door to the stairwell creaked open, he had counted up to 4,214 bricks.

"Hey, Mako," said Bolin, closing the door behind him.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," was Mako's greeting as his younger brother approached him.

"One of the Surrogates was off duty tonight so I managed to sneak out," Bolin replied with a grin. From the inside of the oversized coat he was wearing, Bolin pulled out a flask and held it out toward Mako. "Here. I brought you some tea."

"I'm not thirsty." Mako turned away, looking up at the starless sky. "Go back to bed, Bolin."

Ignoring his brother, Bolin uncorked the flask, letting a coil of steam issue from the brim. Again, he proffered it to his brother and said, "Drink it while it's hot. It's freezing out here."

"I said I didn't want any!" snapped Mako, slapping the flask away from him.

The flask flew from Bolin's fingers and clattered to the floor, spilling hot tea everywhere. The brothers watched in silence as the steam rose in waves from the pools before vanishing into wisps of thin air. The flask rolled into a corner while the cap spun for some time before finally lying still.

Bolin stood stock-still for a moment while Mako walked away, leaving the scene, tea and all. He made it halfway to the other side of the roof when he heard his brother speak.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Mako stopped, his back still turned to Bolin. He heard tentative footsteps draw nearer, heard the anger in Bolin's voice as he let flow a torrent of hurt, emotions which had been kept bottled for the better part of several years.

"You won't sit with me during meals or talk to me anymore. You won't even _look_ at me. You get into fights I don't know about until I hear it from someone else and then when I come to see you… you…" Bolin's voice quivered and broke. Hiccuping slightly he continued in a faint whisper, "Is it because I'm… different?"

Mako knew that what Bolin really meant to ask was _'Is it because I'm a Spec?'_ For that reason alone, he wanted so badly to apologize, to ask for forgiveness, to reveal his secret about being a Pyro. But above all else, he wanted Bolin to be safe, not just from the Hunters, but from a brother who was too unstable to control his own powers, his own life. If keeping Bolin safe meant that Mako had to estrange himself from the one thing he loved in this world, then he would gladly make the sacrifice a hundred times over.

With the will of someone far stronger than he felt, Mako turned to face his little brother. The sight of Bolin crying in an oversized coat was almost enough to break Mako's resolve into a thousand tiny pieces. But cold wind seemed to whip a little sense into Mako's cold cheeks and he managed to force the lies off his tongue.

"I just want to be alone right now," he said, fixing his gaze on a spot just above Bolin's shoulder. "Go to bed, Bolin."

To Mako's shame and relief, Bolin nodded quickly before stumbling toward the stairwell, still wiping his eyes with a too-big sleeve. When the door creaked shut and there was no one else on the roof, Mako crouched down in a corner. He stayed there until the sky grew brighter and the sun slowly ascended in the horizon. As he watched the light spread to every corner of the city, numbness washed over his aching heart. It was only then that Mako realized that he'd been crying the whole time.

* * *

**..**

* * *

Bolin slept badly that night. The crushing disappoint over Mako coupled with the nagging worry that he had not said enough kept him up for several hours. It came as no surprise, therefore, that when someone shook him awake with the utmost disregard the following morning, Bolin could only assume that the Spirits had taken it upon themselves to make his life a living misery.

"All right, I'm awake!" Bolin practically shouted, throwing the covers off his head. He fully expected to see the disapproving glare of one of the stricter Surrogates or even one of the younger kids flouncing away with glee. However, the person who had so rudely shaken him from his hard-earned slumber was none other than Kria who stared down at him with apprehension.

"Oh, it's you," he mumbled, sitting up. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, I didn't mean to –"

"Bolin, I need to tell you something," Kria said without preamble. "I think it might be important but I didn't know what to do so I thought maybe you could h-help –"

Bolin watched in total bemusement as Kria tried to steady herself, trembling slightly. She looked ready to pass out.

"Slow down, Kria, it's okay," said Bolin, trying to calm her down. "Start from the beginning."

Kria nodded fervently, fanning herself with one hand. "Okay," she said after taking a deep breath. "Okay. The beginning. Right. Well, it was just a few hours ago. I got up early to use the showers because… well, it's hard to get privacy around here especially during the morning. So I went – to take a shower I mean – and when the water hit me I just… just blanked out for a second."

"You blanked out?" repeated Bolin.

"Yeah, for a little while. I don't know how long but, anyways, I was… I was in back in my room, you see. In my bed. It was… really, really strange and I wasn't sure if I had just woken from a dream or not but then –"

Kria suddenly gasped, tears springing to her eyes as though she had just seen someone die in front of her. Bolin helped her into a chair, patting her shoulder consolingly.

"It's okay," he said, not wanting to upset her any further. "You're okay, it's going to be –"

"No!" she wailed, fisting her hands in her hair and shaking her head. "No, it's not going to be okay!"

She grabbed hold of Bolin's arm and he flinched at the force of her grip. She looked up at him with frightened eyes, tears falling unchecked over her cheeks. Bolin could do nothing but stare back. He had never seen her like this, so scared and distraught.

"Kria, just tell me what the problem is and I'll help you," said Bolin, holding Kria's hand in his.

The Waterbender seemed not to hear but appeared to look through him, her eyes glazed with fear.

"I saw it all happen, Bolin," she whispered, squeezing his arm. "I couldn't do anything…"

"You saw what happen, Kria? What did you see?"

"The Hunters… they find us. _All_ of us…" A chill ran over Bolin's spine as the magnitude of what Kria was saying hit him like a punch in the stomach. He could barely form any coherent thoughts as he watched her sob uncontrollably, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Kria," Bolin croaked, regaining the ability to form syllables. "When does this happen?"

It took perhaps a minute for Kria to answer but it felt like an hour. When she finally spoke, the answer seemed to stall time, the great metal gears grinding to a slow halt. The world had ended. He seemed to be watching from very far away.

"Tonight. It happens tonight."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I hope that was enough Bolin&Mako for one chapter? :)

Don't forget to review! Love you all XD


	21. Runaway

**A/N**: Sweet mercy, school is over! And the holidays are over (at least where I live) and so is the Mayan Apocalypse! To celebrate those of us who survived the end of the world, I present to you this latest chapter :)

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Runaway**

* * *

Fifteen minutes. 900 seconds. In Agni Kai training, they called it "the extract-and-exterminate window". Interrogation would end around the ten minute mark, leaving a respectable 300 seconds to finish off the now useless informant. It was effective time-management, a tactic that even the United Nations employed. Of course, Asami knew none of this.

The room was exactly the same as when they had entered it a few hours ago; the single sagging bed, the old furniture, and dim lights. But the two people who had first entered as companions were now no more. Asami was staring down at a face that was familiar but altogether horrifying. It was like some stranger was wearing Dai's face so that he had the same brown eyes, hair, and high cheekbones. She'd known that face for five years, and was torn between a desire to hurt him – to break the handsome face – and the desire to break down and cry, laying the pieces of her broken heart bare before him.

Ty Rhan gulped, his eyes pleading. His wrists were bound tightly behind his back but he still managed to sit up and kneel before Asami, his head bowed slightly.

"Please…." Said Ty Rhan. "Whatever she told you, it's a trick to get in your head."

"You just can't stop lying, can you?" Asami's knuckles grew white as she tightened her grip on the handle of the switchblade. Ty Rhan hardly failed to notice but did not comment.

"Asami, you know me, okay? You know I would never do this to you."

"All I know is that I've wasted five years of my life believing a lie," said Asami, her green eyes narrowing with hatred. "Now I know why you tried to keep me away from my father, why you needed to keep me away from everything." She moved closer to him, raising the serrated blade so that it was level with Ty Rhan's face. "I want answers."

Ty Rhan was quiet for a moment. He studied the blade and, to Asami's surprise, his expression softened as though in defeat or resignation. Was it a ruse?

"There're all yours," said Ty Rhan shortly. He nodded at his bag which was lying in the armchair behind Asami.

Heart racing like a spurred Ostrich Horse, Asami quickly moved over to the armchair. The bag was a plain old mud-brown satchel with a worn strap, one that had been around since the beginning of the five year journey. The clasp was secured with a small combination lock but she barely looked at it before slitting the side of the satchel open with her knife. In her haste, she dumped the contents carelessly onto the floor, sifting through stacks of letters tied with string, scraps of paper, and a small pouch of coins, passports, old ticket stubs, a fountain pen, a silver revolver she had never seen before. She was just about to go through the letters, most of which had no return addresses, when she heard a noise behind her.

Before Asami could fully turn around, she felt something hard collide with the side of her head. Blinded by pain, she fell to her side, the switchblade spinning across the floor and out of reach. She barely had a moment to gather herself before Ty Rhan, his hands still tied but holding a cracked lamp, attacked her again. Asami rolled over just in time, the lamp base breaking against the floor.

Asami lunged for the knife which was lying behind the armchair. Her fingers were inches from it when a hand shot out of nowhere and roughly grabbed her by the shoulder, launching her backwards. She knocked the armchair over, sending the bag and its contents sliding across the floor. Asami tried to get up, to fight, but a weight was pressing down on her midriff and cold fingers wrapped around her throat.

"You really are _pathetic_, aren't you?" growled Ty Rhan as he applied more pressure to Asami's windpipe. He ignored her gasps and whimpers, her fingers which clawed desperately at his hands. "After everything we've been through, you were so naively trusting of Ona. You think she's gonna let you go?" He removed one hand just long enough to backhand Asami straight across the face. "You're just like your mother, so high and mighty, acting like everyone else is scum –"

Asami didn't know what came over her or if it was just a reflex. Even as her oxygen deprived brain raised a white flag, her left hand acted of its own accord; it grabbed the nearest object from the floor as though it knew where it was, and plunged it straight into Ty Rhan's face.

Perhaps twenty seconds passed while Asami lay on her side, coughing and gasping, sucking in air which seemed to burn her windpipe. Then she realized that someone was screaming, a shrieking wail of agony that wasn't coming from her own split lips.

Not far from where she sat, Ty Rhan was clearly in pain, his hands shaking uncontrollably in front of his face. A fountain pen was protruding from his right eye socket, his face and sweater already drenched in blood and gore.

"AAAUUUURGGGHHH!" He shrieked, rocking and back forth; saliva dribbling down his chin and mixing with the trail of blood. To Asami's horror, Ty Rhan's shrieks turned into gurgling hysterics, his crazed laughter more frightening than his curses.

Without pausing to think, Asami scrambled for the silver revolver which had skidded into a corner next to the ancient cupboard just as the door flew open. Ona was ready, prepared to strike or subdue as needed – but she couldn't have anticipated the sight that awaited her.

Ty Rhan's continued wails and shrieks were drowned out momentarily by the crack of a gunshot followed by a deafening explosion. Smoke and flames quickly engulfed the room and then spread throughout the entire floor. In a few short seconds, the only human noises were of Ty Rhan's pathetic screams before it was silenced as well.

Outside, the villagers were crowded around the inn, gawking and shouting in a panic as the fire raged, blowing out windows and stretching up to the night sky as though determined to reach the stars. Throughout the commotion, not a single villager noticed the lone figure fleeing from the horrific scene, never to return again.

* * *

_**Republic City**_

* * *

Housing around a hundred Survivors in one building – even a sizeable hotel – was a tough job. Especially when they were all crammed into the grand hall on the 17th floor, some perched on dusty chairs, some standing, most sitting in groups, arguing noisily, some crying hysterically and clinging to their friends. A few harried Surrogates were nearby trying to calm the younger ones down.

"All right, everyone, settle down!" The double doors opened and Loc strode in, his dark hair disheveled and a pained expression on his face. He bounded up onto the stage at the front of the room, pushing a couple of kids out of his way. "Hey! I said shut up and calm the hell down!"

A hushed silence fell over the room. A couple of kids hiccupped and sniffled as they tried to suppress their tears. The older kids looked up at Loc with apprehension and hope. The other Surrogates who were exhausted also looked relieved.

"Okay, we don't have a lot of time here so I'll cut to the chase and sum up for you: The Hunters are coming. Tonight, apparently."

Several of the Survivors looked ready to pass out or vomit.

Loc continued, "Here's what we're going to do. We are evacuating headquarters before the end of this day. Effective immediately."

A rush of voices and complaints filled the air.

"But what if they catch us?"

"I don't want to leave!"

"Can I take my bed with me?"

A loud banging noise echoed through the hall as Loc smacked the podium with his open palm. When relative silence had been restored, Loc let out a low sigh.

"C'mon guys, work with me here! It's a good thing this room is padded – otherwise, it's a miracle they haven't found us already. So let's stop with the chit-chatting and move."

A deep voice belonging to one of the older Surrogates spoke out, "How do we know they're really coming?" A murmur of agreement passed between some of the others. "How do we know this isn't a trap to draw us out?"

"I'm glad you asked, Chatoo," said Loc. "It's good to get the stupid questions out of the way so we don't embarrass ourselves later on." Before Chatoo could retort, Loc continued, "As most of you with a brain might have noticed, this is a safe house for freaks –"

"Loc!" hissed one of the other Surrogates disapprovingly.

"Sorry, Ae Jeong," apologized Loc with mock-shame. "I believe the PC term nowadays is "Special Bender". And some of you are just relatives of those Specs but anyway, the important thing is, there's one special person – and I'm not telling who it is – that has the ability to… uh, know these sort of things. So take my word for it, the Hunters are coming."

A hand shot up at the back of the group. Loc pointed at the boy. "Yeah, what is it?"

"I can't find my brother," said the boy, his voice barely carrying over the din as everyone started talking frantically again.

"Hold on – hey, shut up all of you!" Loc slapped the podium a couple more times. "Okay, what was that, kid?"

"I said I can't find my brother!" yelled the boy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

Loc sighed. "Wow, we've got a runaway already. Kid, what's your brother's name?"

The room suddenly went quiet at the moment, making the answer sound twice as loud, echoing around the room like an alarm bell.

"MAKO!"

Bolin was momentarily dumbfounded by the sudden silence as every single person turned to stare at him as though he had just bellowed a stream of offensive profanity. One by one, the chatter broke out again, this time in backhand whispers and nervous glances.

"Mako… that guy?"

"Yeah… he's not even a Spec."

The crowd suddenly parted as Loc came through. He grabbed Bolin sternly by the shoulder and led him out of the hall, calling instructions to the other Surrogates. Once the double doors had swung shut behind them, Loc turned to Bolin, fixing him with a grave expression.

"When's the last time you saw your brother?"

"Umm…" For a split-second, Bolin considered lying. After all, he knew full well that he had been breaking the rules when he had gone to visit his brother on the roof after hours. But this was urgent. If they didn't find him first, the Hunters certainly would. "Last night. On the roof."

Loc was quiet for a moment. His expression was unreadable. Then he asked, "And after that? Did you see him at all later?"

Bolin shook his head. "No. I went looking for him this morning after… after I took Kria to see you. But I couldn't find him anywhere."

Loc nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. He patted Bolin on the back and told him to go back inside with the others.

A few seconds later, Ae Jeong came out, leaning against the door to close it shut. She looked harried, sleep-deprived and extremely worried.

"What's going on?" asked Ae Jeong, noticing the look on Loc's face. "Do you know where Mako might have gone?"

Loc shook his head. "This could be… dangerous."

"You think he just ran off?" Ae Jeong looked worried.

"No, it's not that… Ae Jeong, don't you think –" Loc stopped mid-sentence, biting his lower lip.

"Don't I think what, Loc?"

Loc turned to her, more serious than she had ever seen him in her entire life. "If they catch Mako..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Then it's no wonder they find us tonight."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Hope you had a wonderful holiday! Happy New Year, everybody!


	22. Home Again

**A/N**: Enjoy the new chapter everybody! Only a few months to go until Book 2 of Legend of Korra!

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Home Again**

* * *

Running was second nature to Asami. Running and lies – they went together, just like Asami and Dai had done. That is, until she had shot an exposed gas pipe in the wafer-thin walls of the inn at the same time that Ona had retaliated with her one-armed Firebending move. The combination was a massive explosion, one that Asami had barely managed to escape by jumping out of the window and falling to the ground in a heap. She was sure her right wrist was broken but it did not stop her from running.

Now she was exhausted, literally dragging herself through the dark forest, her only luggage the handful of letters she had managed to snatch off the floor before escaping, and of course, the silver revolver. Ty Rhan's revolver, the last piece of the last five years as far as Asami was concerned. The letters, of course, were yet to be perused. First she needed a place to rest. Her injured wrist throbbed with every breath she took.

Soon, her throat was raw and parched. Her feet felt as though they were bleeding and the lack of rest was causing her to see things. For instance, she could not believe that light was streaming through the seemingly thinning row of trees. As she leaned against the trunk of the nearest pine, she thought she smelled smoke. A fire?

"Spirits…" Asami whispered faintly, her knees nearly giving out beneath her.

It wasn't a hallucination at all. It was all real: the train, the black trail of smoke beneath it. It was by no means a passenger train by the looks of its cargo, each car covered with a beige tarp. But Asami was already scrambling down the hill, sliding down the dewy grass toward the train. She knew it would be stopping near a factory because she'd seen the plant from up the hill. She knew that she'd sneak on without being caught because Dai had taught her how more than once over the years. But most of all, she knew she needed to get as far away as possible because deep down, she knew she could never escape her past.

* * *

**Republic City**

* * *

Mako lurked just outside the shopping district's most famous boutiques. It was a fancy dress store with glass windows filled with beautiful displays of frilly hems and cut ribbon. Mannequins with no faces wore hand-sewn hats and expensive shoes. Mako had little interest in gowns that cost more than it would take to feed all the Survivors for a month but he was fascinated by the patrons who walked in and out of the boutique – especially the ones with money in their pockets.

The tinkle of a small chime as the door opened brought out a fashionably dressed couple. A servant stumbled out right after them, weighed down by a tall stack of neatly wrapped boxes. The couple paid him no mind but stopped so that the woman could readjust her hair. Mako saw his chance and slipped out from his hiding place.

"Hey, watch it!"

As planned, the boxes were scattered all over the street. The servant rushed around to pick them up while Mako feigned confusion and apologized profusely.

"What do you think you're doing?" the well-dressed woman cried shrilly, wringing her hands at the sight of the boxes rolling around on the pavement. She turned on Mako with a disgusted look. "You did this!"

"I-I really didn't mean to!" Mako hastily picked up the nearest box and held it up to her.

"Don't touch that!" shrieked the woman, practically lunging at the box.

Mako jumped back in alarm and dropped the box. The woman cried out in anger and this time, her gentleman companion stepped in, grabbing Mako roughly by the lapels.

"You want to get in trouble, you little street urchin?" the man snarled, glaring into Mako's eyes. Mako shook his head whereby the man threw him back onto the pavement. He turned to the servant who had precariously stacked up the hatboxes again and was attempting to hoist it up without the whole thing wobbling. "Come along, Chun, we're leaving."

Mako did not get back up again until he'd seen the servant totter away and out of sight along with his master and mistress. Then, as coolly as if nothing had happened, Mako got up, dusted himself off, and slipped away. As he briskly walked into an alley, he casually placed the leather wallet he had lifted from the well-dressed man in front of the shop. Really, if it were always this easy…

* * *

**..**

* * *

The minute the ship docked in Republic City Harbor, Korra whooped joyously as she shook Naga awake. They'd been lying low in the cargo hold for the entire journey and she was elated to be shot of the place. The rank stench of stale meat coming from one of the larger crates was starting to get on her nerves.

"We did it Naga!" Korra said ecstatically. "We're finally here! I can't believe it!"

They were about to leave when they heard a commotion just outside on the docks.

"Where do you think you're going, little missy?" a swarthy man with ham-like arms was glowering down at a teenage girl who looked mildly irritated at the altercation.

"You've got the wrong person, mister," she answered evenly, folding her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, you filthy stowaway!" barked the man, fisting his enormous hands menacingly. To her credit, the teenager did not seem frightened in the least. "No one gets a free ride on this ship! Either pay up or you'll be in a load of –"

Korra was about to step in without a single clue as to what she was going to do or say, when the teenage girl hooked her foot around the man's ankle and tripped him backwards. In two seconds, the teenage girl was gone – sprinting so fast that she was nothing but a blur.

"Stop her! Stop that girl!" screamed the man, still lying flat on the ground.

"You heard the man, Naga," said Korra as she swiftly mounted the Polar Bear Dog. "Let's go."

Even as she was running from yet another person who was set on stopping her, Asami could not believe her eyes. Every building and every street she passed was like walking back into a dream. Except this time, she knew she wasn't going to wake up at the end of the alleyway or back in her old house where she was screaming as her mother died. Republic City with its glittery, dusty atmosphere and bustling crowds was just as Asami remembered it. This was real. She was home.

It was long past lunchtime but Asami was tempted to walk into the first noodle shop she saw and demand everything on the menu. Of course, she had no money, but that wasn't the main reason she restrained herself. There were more pressing matters that couldn't be served if she were arrested on the first day back.

Asami turned down into the Fashion District. There were boutiques and custom tailor shops everywhere she looked. She remembered this place quite well, could almost feel her mother next to her as she perused the shop windows, pointing out the different fabrics and embellishments.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Asami turned and was shocked to see a gigantic white creature bounding up the street towards her. She squeezed into a narrow alleyway between two shops and kept moving. Someone kept calling behind her, but she ignored it.

By the time she was on the other side, Asami could feel pain shooting up her right wrist again. She had to place her arm at an awkward angle as she pulled herself through the passageway, and bandaged or not, her wrist hurt like hell. By the time she slipped out through the other end, sweat was pouring down her face.

"Aaahh!" Asami yelled out as something huge and four-legged came running around the corner. She fell backwards, landing with her hands out. She nearly blacked out from the pain as she heard an awful crack in her already injured wrist.

"Whoa, Naga!" a young girl's voice said as Asami lay on the ground, head reeling with pain. There were footsteps and she thought she heard someone's voice say, "Hey, are you okay?"

The sky seemed to grow darker, the air heavier. Asami felt something cold and wet moving over her burning wrist. Curiously, the pain disappeared, and Asami slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N: **I'm really sorry that I've been uploading so slowly lately. I've been having a lousy start to a new year, it seems, but things are starting to look up :) Thanks for reading!


	23. Enemies and Allies

**A/N**: New chapter! High fives all around! :D

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Enemies and Allies**

* * *

_**Somewhere in the Antarctic Ocean**_

* * *

The fleet of ships set sail at dawn. There were twelve vessels in all, each gliding through the frigid seas, broken sheets of ice trailing their paths. The funeral took place on the largest ship where a congregation of mourners was gathered. They all wore white clothing, a gesture of respect for the departed. A framed portrait of Master Katara was placed on a large table where guests could leave a white chrysanthemum and pay their respects.

"Master Katara was a great individual," began the eulogy, read aloud by Chief Yukon of the Southern Water Tribe. "Brave, compassionate, wise. She was a mother, a sister, a wife, a teacher, and a leader. She was also a hero in the eyes of many…"

The speeches ran on for quite some time while the audience listened in total silence save for the occasional sniffle or muffled sob. Finally, after a long line of tearful goodbyes, the last and final speaker stepped up to the podium. It was Katara's youngest child, Tenzin, a tall cloaked figure with a prominent blue arrow tattooed on his bald head.

"I am here today with family and friends," said Tenzin slowly, his breath misting in the cold. "Sadly, this is not a joyous occasion. But, as my mother once said, 'love is brightest in the dark', and I truly believe that I have never loved her more than I do today." He paused briefly, looking up to meet the eyes of audience before continuing, "My love for her c-continue to grow every day. I miss you, mother. We _all_ miss you…"

* * *

**...**

* * *

Most of the guests did not find it odd that the funeral had been set much later than was customary. None of them questioned the explanation that the wait was due to the delayed arrival of Bumi, a busy commander of the UF, and the second child of Master Katara. But Tenzin, along with the closest relatives of Katara, knew full well that this was not the truth. Bumi had actually arrived a few hours ealier than Tenzin himself who had flown directly from his home in Republic City to the OWL Headquarters the moment he had heard about the tragedy. And yet, they all stuck to the lie. There were more things at stake here than personal morals, that was for sure.

"Have we received any news, any at all?" This was the first question that Tenzin asked of Gappak once the funeral was over. Tenzin and the three White Lotus Elders were all gathered around a table in one of the private cabins of the ship.

Gappak shook his head. "Not since we last received word about her boarding that cargo ship. They've searched that ship top to bottom. No sign of her or the Polar Bear Dog."

"But that ship was headed to Republic City," said Tenzin. "Surely that means they're somewhere in the city?"

"It's a possibility," relented Erma with little conviction. "However, that cargo ship stopped at three different ports along the Earth Kingdom's coastline. We cannot be certain of her whereabouts."

"Then why haven't you sent out more sentries to track her down? You do have the manpower."

Washu coughed. "That would be inadvisable, Councilman Tenzin. Should the word get out that the Avatar has gone missing, that she is without the protection of the Order of the White Lotus, then it will only urge the Hunters to rally and capture her with greater haste."

"How do we know that the Hunters aren't already aware of the situation? How do we know she's still safe?" asked Tenzin bitterly. "I know better than anyone what those wretched Hunters are capable of, believe me. Reports of Spec kidnappings have escalated in the past few years and there's no stopping them. Not now, at any rate. Even the council members now seem to believe that it's for the best."

"For the best?" repeated Erma with raised eyebrows.

Tenzin nodded. "There have been a few… incidents, shall I put it, concerning these Specs. Some have little control over their powers – unsurprising as there's no one to teach them – but there have been cases where the incidents have raised concerns as to the danger of Specs in general. The danger they impose on a growing society such as Republic City.

"But to think that things will be better off if we hand them over to the Hunters is a gross misunderstanding. Some Specs are abused beyond imagination, trained to kill, and have been at the core of some of the worst turf wars. Hunters are not the answer to our problem."

"Special Bender… The term is somewhat open to interpretation, is it not?" asked Gappak. "Do the Hunters still consider the Avatar to be a Special Bender?"

"Yes, they certainly do. Most Hunters consider the capture of the Avatar to be the greatest honor imaginable. To them, the Avatar is no more than a prize to be conquered and claimed." Tenzin let out a hollow chuckle, a rueful grin on his lips. "If my father were alive to see this…"

After a moment of silence, Erma cleared her throat. With an expression of deepest sorrow she said, "We are truly sorry for what has happened, Tenzin. If there's anything we can do…"

"Just promise me one thing," said Tenzin. His voice was suddenly hard, and his blue eyes reflected a coldness that hadn't been there during the funeral.

"Anything," replied Gappak.

"When you find them, let me deal with the animal."

The Elders exchanged fleeting glances. Gappak leaned forward and placed a hand gently on Tenzin's shoulder.

"Certainly," said Gappak solemnly, looking straight into Tenzin's steely eyes. "That beast is as good as yours."

* * *

_**Republic City**_

* * *

When Asami woke up, she did not immediately open her eyes. Fear clenched at her heart but she steadied her breathing. Somewhere close by, she heard slow footsteps.

"Hey, you awake?"

The voice belonged to a young girl, and Asami suddenly remembered what had happened prior to her unconsciousness. A young girl wearing Water Tribe clothing, and the gigantic white animal.

"You should get up when you're feeling better," the young girl continued. Her voice sounded much closer now. "I couldn't find anything to eat, though. I'm kind of low on cash. And by low, I mean broke."

There was a rustling noise, a low whine, and then the young girl spoke again. "C'mon, Naga. That's a good girl. Time to get up."

Asami opened her eyes. She was lying on her back behind a building. Even though it was still daytime, the usual bustle and noise of traffic was rather distant. They were obviously a little far from the main streets.

"Ah-ha! Knew you weren't asleep."

Asami turned around. The girl was even younger than Asami had thought. Maybe around eleven; twelve at the most. She wore the traditional garb of someone who had come straight from one of the Water Tribes. Even her hair was unusual; two pigtails that framed her face, and one high ponytail down the back. Behind her, the huge furry canine-bear hybrid wad snoozing against a wall.

"Who are you?" asked Asami cautiously as she watched the girl stroke the animal's fur.

"I'm Korra, and this is my best friend, Naga." Korra gestured at the furry animal who whined again. "She's just hungry," Korra explained, scratching Naga behind the ears.

"You're best friend is a… um…" faltered Asami, utterly bemused.

"Naga's a Polar Bear Dog," said Korra, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement at Asami's nonplussed expression. "They're pretty rare, even up in the South Pole. Not sure about Republic City though. It's my first time in the Earth Kingdom, actually."

"Why did you help me?" Asami asked after a moment's pause. She had just noticed her arm which was no longer broken or aching. It was as good as new, the work of a Healer.

Korra shrugged. "You were hurt so I healed it. It's no big deal, really."

"Well, thanks," said Asami abruptly, getting to her feet. "I'd better get going."

"Wait! I mean –" Korra looked sheepishly at the older girl. "The thing is… I was hoping that you could – or rather, we could stick together, you know?"

"Sorry, I'm kind of busy so –"

"Listen, I know we've just met but we've got a lot in common."

Asami glanced at Korra's appearance, from her three ponytails down to her heavy clothes and mukluks.

"Clearly," replied Asami tonelessly, turning away. She had barely taken three steps when Korra shouted after her.

"We're both runaways!" The sound echoed around the alleyway. Asami stopped in her tracks. From behind her, Korra repeated, "We're both runaways. And I get that you think you don't need us, but you do. Your arm didn't fix itself, you know."

"I didn't ask for your help," Asami snapped, glaring at Korra over her shoulder.

"No, you didn't," Korra replied evenly, returning the glare. "But you needed it."

* * *

**..**

* * *

An evacuation, as it turned out, wasn't the easiest thing to organize, especially with so many kids. These weren't just ordinary children either but those with unstable powers and, under the circumstances, just the right dose of anxiety and hysteria to cause an all-out Special Bender panic-attack.

The only good thing about the situation was that things were so hectic that the Surrogates failed to notice one little boy slipping away from the room. Bolin found that the hallway outside was empty without a single guard in sight.

Bolin snuck off down the hallway, wondering where Mako could possibly have gone. He waited for the elevator, hiding behind a corner just in case someone got out on the floor.

The elevator doors slid open and Bolin was just about to get on when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He retreated to the corner, heart hammering away. There were at least two people and when they spoke, Bolin realized with some surprise that they weren't Surrogates at all.

"You sure this is gonna work, Phong? We're gonna get in serious trouble, man."

"Ah, quit you're yapping, Bedu!" The footsteps stopped momentarily and Bolin strained his ears as Phong dropped his voice to a whisper. "Listen, we're finished here. I heard the Surrogates talkin' and it seems to me that bastard Mako went and sold us out. We might as well split before the Hunters catch us. We could make it on our own without the stupid Survivors."

"But why we have to go back to our room?" whined Bedu.

"Because we're going to leave a little present for that scumbag snitch. Here, take a look at this."

There was a brief pause followed by the sound of Bedu's sharp intake of breath. Whatever Phong was showing him, Bedu was impressed. Bolin restrained himself from peeking around the corner even though he was tingling with curiosity.

"Is that… how'd you get something like that?" asked Bedu, awestruck.

"Remember that night I was on guard duty? Well, I found this drunk lurking around the street and when I cornered him, he started wetting his pants – said he'd give me this if I didn't beat him up."

"So, you really gonna use it?"

"'Course I will. I reckon that the traitor will come back to get his stuff once they clear out the building, you know? He's a real greedy one so when he comes back…"

The two were moving again. Bolin listened as he heard their footsteps grew fainter down the stairs. Judging by their conversation, Phong was about to get payback on Mako for their little spat the other day. Whatever it was, Bolin was determined to stop it.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you everyone for your continued support. It means a lot to me :)


	24. Dead Red

**A/N**: Hey, I'm back! Sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Dead Red**

* * *

_**Republic City**_

* * *

It was growing darker outside as Bolin followed Bedu and Phong, his footsteps masked by their conversation. Phong continued to verbally abuse Mako while Bedu occasionally interjected with general agreement or concern about the mysterious item Phong was going to use for his revenge.

"What if it doesn't work? Or if it does work? You might bring the whole building down with that," said Bedu when they reached the suite room Mako shared with seven other boys including Phong.

"Doesn't matter if the building comes down, does it?" replied Phong carelessly as they entered. Bolin crept closer to the open door. After a few minutes, he heard Phong say, "There. When the little freak comes back to his room to get his stuff, we'll all be long gone by then… and so we'll he."

"C'mon, let's get out of here!" Bedu sounded nervous and a little frightened. "Before we're dead too!"

Bolin barely had a second's warning to throw himself behind a decorative urn before both Bedu and Phong emerged from the room, gently closing the door behind them as though afraid to wake a sleeping dragon. They both left shortly thereafter without another word.

When the coast was clear, Bolin left his hiding spot and approached the suite door, feeling anxious. Had they rigged the door? If he opened it, would it electrocute? Go up in flames? Vaporize him? All manner of paranoid ideas flooded Bolin's brain before he finally worked up the courage to turn the doorknob, bracing himself…

The door creaked open without incident. Bolin relaxed a little, and stepped inside. The place was about the same size as the one that he shared with the younger kids albeit messier and filled with the smell of unwashed socks.

Mako's bed was at the far end next to an old side table. The covers were motley grey like all the others, the pillow flat and uncomfortable. Bolin gingerly lifted the sheets, and prodded the pillow, trying to locate whatever booby trap Phong had set for Mako. When nothing turned up, Bolin got down on his knees and checked under the bed. All he found was lint and a day-old newspaper. The headline read "Councilman Tenzin Delivers Eulogy at Master Katara's Funeral".

After double checking every corner of the bed, Bolin looked around the room. As orphans, Survivors had very few possessions. Due to security reasons, there was even a limit to the number of personal items that a single person could bring inside headquarters. Even after five years, Bolin was sure that he could count the number of things Mako owned on one hand. Clothes were communally owned so there was no point digging through the closets. Bolin stared around the room. He could not think up any ideas as to where Phong might have hidden a potentially dangerous object meant for one specific individual. To make matters worse, the sky outside was darkening, making is harder to search the room…

"That's it!" Bolin hurried over to the light switch next to the suite door. If he was right in his assumption, then Phong's booby trap had something to do with the lights. By the time Mako got back, it would be pitch black outside, and turning the lights on would be inevitable. The switch looked perfectly normal. Bolin attempted to pull the panel off the wall but it wouldn't budge. After several minutes, Bolin felt frustrated. Bedu and Phong had left the room rather quickly. There was no way that they somehow managed to pull the switch out, plant a trap, and then place it back in such a timely fashion.

As Bolin scammed the room for other possible hiding places, the street lamps outside sputtered to life. The orange glare bounced off the chandelier on the ceiling and Bolin noticed something odd. A faint burgundy glow was just visible among the dusty crystals.

Excitement and curiosity overtook Bolin. He hastily dragged a side table to the middle of the room, balancing a chair on top of the table to gain more height. He climbed onto the chair, steadied himself, and slowly reached up to extract the shiny burgundy item from among the string of dusty crystals and light bulbs.

The object was a small glass vial filled with some sort of reddish liquid. Around the stopper, a small tag protruded like a stub. In the fading light of the sky, Bolin read the words inscribed on the tag: HANDLE WITH CAUTION – DEAD RED BLOOD. He felt his heart drop into his shoes.

He now realized why Bedu had been so nervous about the object. Bolin stared down at his open palm, utterly stunned at what he saw. The reddish liquid seemed quite harmless. Unfortunately, Bolin knew only too well that it wasn't anything but innocent.

A life living in secrecy with a bunch of other Specs meant that Bolin was quite knowledgeable about the variety of Specs. There was one particularly rare type of Special Bender called "Dead Red". Dead Reds were Waterbender Specs with the ability to use their own blood as projectile explosives. Rumor had it that the Red Monsoon Triad experimented with Dead Red blood to create an ever more powerful substance that could explode even without a Dead Red to trigger it. Even today, Dead Red blood was an outlawed substance that was sold on the black market for exorbitant prices. And now Bolin was holding a vial of it – a thousand dynamites packed into just a few drops of blood.

Bolin carefully placed the vial in his pocket, hoping against hope that he didn't lose his legs while climbing down. He remembered hearing from one of the older Survivors that Dead Red blood could be set off by simply smashing the vial, or exposing it to heat; fire or, in this case, direct contact with a light bulb once the lights were switched on. In that case, he would have to avoid bumping into anything, or dropping the vial in a furnace on the way back to the others. He was certain that one of the Surrogates would know what to do with it.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on. For a split-second, Bolin panicked, expecting the vial to burst. Then he remembered that the vial was safely in his pocket, away from the chandelier. His relief was short-lived, however, when he realized who had turned on the light.

A tall man with gray hair and amber eyes gently closed the suite door behind him. The man wore a fine suit, quite expensive-looking yet simple in design. When his eyes met Bolin's green ones, he offered a thin smile.

"I see that I have company," said the man casually as though he had stepped into a train compartment expecting it to be empty. He took a step closer while Bolin stayed rooted to the spot, his heart thumping wildly.

"Who…who are you?" Bolin stammered.

"Ah, how rude of me. Introductions are in order, I suppose," said the man, picking an invisible speck of dust from his pristine jacket. The smile never wavered. "My name is Zahrul, leader of the Agni Kais."

* * *

**..**

* * *

Growing up in a compound surrounded by adults had never been easy for Korra. The Elders were always showing up when Korra finally managed to convince a hesitant Howl into doing something fun. One time, Korra came up with the idea to glue a guard's helmet to his bald head. That time, Elder Erma had caught them redheaded: Korra with the glue, Howl holding the helmet. "One of these days," she had said to a shamefaced Howl and a sulky Korra, "you will learn that your friends can ruin you faster than your enemies."

That day had finally come, Korra thought, as she found herself hiding inside a dumpster, knee deep in things she was reluctant to identify. Beside her, Asami was peeking through the crack of the barely open dumpster lid. She'd been at it for quite some time now, and seemed to be oblivious to the overwhelming stench of spoiled food and feet. Korra, on the other hand, was ready to pass out.

"How much longer?" Korra whispered hoarsely.

Asami ignored her, and continued to keep a close watch. It amazed Korra that Asami could even see anything, considering the fact that it was now late in the afternoon. The roads were empty and the streetlights were already on.

Korra now regretted teaming up with Asami. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. She needed the company and Asami was far more familiar with the city than Korra. Once they had exchanged brief introductions ("I'm Avatar Korra and I'm on the run to save Naga who was wrongly accused of murdering my former Waterbending Master."), Asami came up with a plan to secure some funding for food. At first, Korra had been less than cooperative.

"Stealing? You can't be serious, Asami, and that's coming from me."

"It's not technically stealing if we aren't the ones to do it. This city is practically crawling with thieves."

And so Korra had agreed, though she couldn't quite remember when they had decided to choose a smelly dumpster as their hideout. Naga had been left in the basement of an office building which had been closed down due to a legal dispute.

Right when Korra had just about enough, Asami motioned for her to look outside. Korra squinted through the crack. She heard rather than saw someone approaching. A very tall teenaged boy stopped next to the dumpster without realizing that two girls were spying. He moved his hands over the alley wall opposite the dumpster before pulling out one of the bricks. Korra was still watching when Asami suddenly sprang into action, throwing the lid open and practically pouncing on the boy.

By the time Korra scrambled out of the dumpster, Asami had the boy bound and gagged. On closer inspection, Korra noticed that the boy was not much older than she was. He had dark black hair and amber eyes. His thin face was arranged in a malevolent glare at Asami.

"Korra, take the stuff that's in the wall. I'll pat him down for today's haul," said Asami.

"Right," Korra said, hurrying over to the wall.

From the space in the wall where the boy had removed the brick, Korra found a small satchel. Inside was a jumble of wallets, loose change and bills, two or three hair ornaments, and an expensive looking pocket watch.

"Okay, I think I've got everything," Korra said, turning back to Asami.

Asami was no longer standing over the boy who thrashing about on the ground. She was standing with a strange look on her face, examining something shiny under the nearest streetlamp. It appeared to be an ordinary silver lighter.

"Um… hello?" Korra, gestured to the satchel in her hands. "Are we leaving or what?"

For a moment, Asami just stood there, still staring at the lighter in her hand. It was like she was in a trance. Korra was about to drag Asami back to Naga when she snapped out it, fully alive, an expression of utter fury on her normally beautiful face. Before Korra could do or say anything, Asami grabbed the boy on the floor, wrenched him up by the collar of his jacket and slammed him forcefully against the wall.

"Spirits!" Korra cried out in shock. "What are you –"

"Where did you get this?" Asami snarled, shoving the lighter in front of the boy's face. "Who did you steal it from? Answer me!"

Asami pulled the gag from the boy's mouth. He promptly spat in her face. If Korra hadn't intervened just then, Asami would have struck him across the face.

"What… is… your… problem…" Korra grunted, wrestling Asami to the ground.

"He had this lighter on him!" Asami cried out, her voice rising hysterically. "The last time I had it was when my mother was murdered! He might know something about my dad's whereabouts!"

Korra seriously considered knocking out Asami and carrying her back to where Naga was when something shocking happened. The boy, who just moments before had been frantically trying to chew through the ropes binding his wrists, suddenly spoke out in a tentative yet clear voice. "Asami?"

Asami stopped struggling at once and Korra nearly fell on top of her from the abrupt lack of resistance. The two girls exchanged looks of bewilderment and shock. Slowly and in unison, they turned to stare at the boy who was no longer glaring but looked simultaneously incredulous and overjoyed.

"It is you," the boy said softly, his amber eyes warming considerably. "I thought you looked familiar. Do you remember me? I'm –"

"Mako," Asami finished, and Korra was even more bemused than ever as the boy called Mako nodded.

"That's impossible," Asami said, crawling closer to where Mako sat against the wall. "I thought you were dead."

"Look who's talking." Mako smiled, his thin face lighting up.

"Okay, hold up!" Korra stepped between them, unable to watch any longer. Addressing Asami, she said, "Let me get this straight. The guy we tried to rob, and you tried to kill – he knows you?" Korra pointed at Mako. "And you know him? You two know each other?"

Before either Mako or Asami could get a word out, a loud BOOM that sounded like half the city blowing up ripped through the night air and whatever explanations that might have been given. Korra clapped her hands over her ears as a building several blocks away collapsed, dust rushing up in a huge cloud.

" – get there!" Mako was yelling.

"What?" Korra shouted, her hands still over her ears.

"That's the headquarters! I need to get there now!"

"Mako, we don't know what's going on over there," said Asami as she cut through bindings with a knife.

"You don't understand," said Mako, his face white as a sheet. "My brother… Bo… he's still in there."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! :)


	25. Bait and Switch

**A/N**: Hey, ya'll! Sorry I've been gone for so long. In short, my midterms are coming up and I'm very close to failing History of English Literature. But anyways, enjoy this chapter! :)

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Bait and Switch**

* * *

_**Earlier**_

* * *

Loc swiped the sweat from his brow and looked out the window at the darken sky. He and the other Surrogates had spent the day smuggling Survivors out through a narrow underground tunnel in the basement. While Ae Jeong led the Survivors through the tunnel, Loc had stayed back to guard the ground floor entrance to the building.

"Loc?" A short young man with dreads appeared at Loc's side, looking pale but determined. "That's the last of them. They're all through to the other safe house."

Loc nodded. He disliked showing how nervous he was to other people but he was feeling it in his guts even as he gave out instructions in his most collected voice. "All right, Tuan, tell the others to move out."

Tuan made no move to leave. Instead, he stared at Loc with an almost stubborn expression. "You're not thinking of staying, are you?"

"Got to. Who else is going to seal the exit?"

"Don't worry about that. Leave it to an Earthbender."

Loc shook his head. "You know that's not how it works." He clapped a hand on Tuan's shoulder, and grinned. "Get going, Tuan. You know the tunnels better than Ae Jeong does. Make sure no one gets lost."

Tuan hesitated for a moment but then he nodded, returning a tight grin before running off toward the basement. Loc watched him leave. It was, in a way, the easiest goodbye he would never say aloud.

Loc stayed well hidden with a clear view of the front entrance as he waited. About a quarter of an hour passed before anything exciting happened, and even then it started – not with a bang – but a creak of the door opening. Three people entered the premise, one of whom Loc recognized immediately. Zahrul, leader of the Agni Kai Triad, was followed by a thuggish male with a crew cut wearing a leather jacket, and a few steps behind him, a slighter figure whose face was hidden by the hood of her cloak.

"Sir, I'll take it from here," grunted the thuggish male, looking around at the dusty reception area. "The Spec knows where it is, and it shouldn't take too long to find."

"You needn't bother yourself," replied Zahrul, his voice as cold and smooth as ice. "There's been too much trouble concerning the item, and I find that things go much quicker if I am personally involved." He motioned for the cloaked figure to join his side. "Tiva and I shall be back soon. You're to stay here and keep watch. Understood?"

The thuggish man bowed. "Yes sir."

From his vantage point, Loc watched Zahrul disappear from sight along with the cloaked person named Tiva. The thuggish man stayed where he was, his back turned to where Loc was hiding. Given that the opportunity was far too good to pass up, Loc slipped out of his hiding place, sneaking from cobwebbed reception desk to cobwebbed decorative vase until he was right behind the broad back of his target.

"Surprise," Loc whispered, and before the man could do anything more than grunt in alarm, he was out cold, sprawled on the floor with his mouth lolling open.

* * *

.

* * *

Zahrul climbed briskly up the flights of stairs, so quickly in fact that the Spec girl called Tiva who trailed behind him kept tripping over the hem of her cloak. The two of them kept on going until the cloaked girl suddenly stopped, her hazel eyes fixated on Zahrul. He nodded.

Tiva now walked in front of Zahrul, her hand outstretched so that her fingertips brushed the spotted wallpaper. She passed door after door, steadily making her way down the hall while Zahrul followed her, silent and watchful. When she passed a set of double doors that led to a suite room, she paused for a moment. Then, she turned to face Zahrul and pointed quietly at the door. Again, he nodded.

Quietly, he motioned for her to get out of the way. She obeyed without comment as Zahrul turned the doorknob, found it to be unlocked, and slipped inside. When the door closed behind him, Tiva stayed motionless as a doll. Behind the double doors, she heard Zahrul's voice. "I see that I have company." Tiva looked away from the doors, hiding her tears.

* * *

**.**

* * *

Loc wished he could have interrogated the bodyguard to figure out what Zahrul was doing here. It seemed clear that this wasn't the sort of Agni Kai invasion that Kria had described that morning. Although Loc was fully aware that Kria's interpretations could be inaccurate, it still did not explain why Zahrul had showed up here in the first place if not to capture Specs. What was this "item" that Zahrul was so intent on finding to come all the way to an abandoned hotel?

All these questions and more were pushed down to the second slot on the list of priorities as Loc ran around the first floor with a scraper in hand. He started ripping of sections of the wallpaper, moving from wall to wall, revealing small wall safes which had been installed on the day of operation. Some Surrogates (mostly Ae Jeong) had objected to what Loc referred to as "a solid contingency plan" but Loc was relieved to see that everything was intact. The safes each held a small switchbox which could only be activated via an electric charge. Once the switches were all on, an interval countdown would begin. If Loc remembered correctly, time until detonation was barely a minute.

With a feeling of trepidation, Loc pressed his hand against the first switchbox. The smallest tingle ran from the tips of his fingers onto the small metal surface on the side. There was a tiny mechanical click as a red light flickered on. One down, three more to go.

It was on the third switchbox that Loc heard the footsteps. Evidently, Zahrul had made quick work of his search for the mysterious item. The final switchbox was located in a corner, invisible to anyone coming down the stairs. Loc waited with baited breath. If he did not activate the switch soon, there was a good chance that Zahrul would walk away alive. There was, of course, a good chance that Zahrul would leave with what he came for and never think to return. The Survivors would then be free to move back into the hotel once the coast was clear and Loc would enjoy the pleasure of not being blown to a thousand pieces. But just the thought of letting Zahrul, the leader of the Agni Kais, walk away was causing Loc's hand to shake violently. He quickly stuffed it into his pocket just as Zahrul reentered the front entrance.

Zahrul stopped abruptly and Loc knew why. He'd left the thuggish bodyguard sitting propped against the reception desk. Loc's instinct was to charge the switch and wait until the detonation but his hand literally froze when he saw who was standing beside the cloaked girl who now had her hood down. A small frightened looking young boy with dark hair and green eyes. Bolin.

Loc swore so loudly inside his own head that he was astounded that nobody turned around. He was momentarily paralyzed, unable to think straight as Zahrul knelt beside the bodyguard. The little cloaked girl watched placidly while Bolin seemed too scared to do or say anything. In that moment, Loc made his decision.

"Hey!" Loc shouted as loudly as he could as he stepped out from the corner. As expected, Zahrul took notice as did Bolin and the cloaked girl. Bolin smiled and was about to greet him when Loc gave him "the look", something all Survivors equated with the words "shut up".

"I take it you're the one responsible for taking out my subordinate," said Zahrul in remarkably calm tones. "Quite intriguing. He seems to be out cold without the slightest signs of exterior trauma or drug use."

"Yeah, that's because I scared the daylights out of him," Loc replied airily. "But you should be too. Scared I mean."

"Of what, pray tell, would I be scared of?" asked Zahrul. "Of you?"

"No, no, not me. Well yes me, but not _mainly_ me, you know?" Loc lifted the switchbox in his hand. "This here, my friend, is a detonation device."

"I see. A bomb threat."

"You bet your fancy suit there's a bomb, buddy. Several bombs, actually." Loc waved his free hand at the reception area. "See those safes over there? Those ones have already been activated. This one I'm holding is the last one. The second it's activated, the whole building's coming down."

"And what exactly do you want of me?" asked Zahrul, his icy tone now clearly pronounced in each syllable.

Loc snorted with laughter. "What does anybody want from you? Your profound wisdom? No, man – me and this whole city only want one thing from rich folk like you: money."

Zahrul's expression did not change as he pulled an expensive leather wallet from his jacket pocket and slid it across the floor toward Loc. "I think that should suffice. The wallet alone is worth more than –"

He broke off as Loc's derisive laughter echoed around the empty floor.

"You're a hell of a joker, aren't you?" Loc said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "What would I want with a couple of bills and an old man's purse? No, no. I want _them_."

Zahrul's raised his eyebrows. "You mean those children?"

"Don't play stupid, I know they're Specs. Why else would you be toting around a couple of kids?" said Loc, a wild gleam in his eyes though internally his heart was frisking his ribs, certain that any moment Zahrul would call his bluff and run. "One is worth enough to set me up for life."

Zahrul was quiet for a moment, apparently mulling over Loc's offer. Then, to Loc's incredulity, he looked up, his amber eyes flashing mischievously. "Deal."

Loc had to refrain himself from stupid blurting out "what?" and instead replied with a sneer. "That's the spirit, old man. The two Specs –"

"Not two, just one," said Zahrul, his grin more pronounced than ever. "You said yourself that one is enough to set you up for life, and I'd rather be dead than lose an investment as large as both these Specs."

"And which one are you so kindly offering?" asked Loc as nonchalantly as possible.

"Oh that's simple," Zahrul said. He slowly walked over to where the two children stood. He clapped a hand on Bolin's shoulder. "This one… is mine."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N: **Questions and comments are always appreciated! Wrote this very fast so excuse all the crazy grammar mistakes. Thank you, as always.


	26. License to Bleed

**A/N**: Thanks to all those who reviewed and PM'd me into getting off my lazy bum to write another chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: License to Bleed**

* * *

"This one is mine."

The statement was cold and calculated. Zahrul's lip curled. Loc kept his face straight. Bolin looked shell-shocked and confused. The young girl did not react but Loc sensed that she was shivering inside.

"Now, now you mustn't think that you're getting the shorter end of the proverbial stick," said Zahrul, his hand gripping Bolin's shoulder. He nodded over at the girl. "Tiva here is quite capable. Without her abilities, I would never have been able to track a certain blood specimen to this very location. Of course, I was rather surprised to find this young man in possession of it."

Loc did not speak. He wasn't sure what Zahrul was referring to or why Bolin had been left behind. The scene was not one that he had ever anticipated and it must have seemed ridiculous from an outsider's perspective: two men squaring off in the middle of a dusty lounge, the only source of light the moon's rays streaming in through the windows cracked, and of course the two Spec children.

"You seem unconvinced," said Zahrul after a brief pause. Without removing his hand from Bolin's shoulder, he nodded at Tiva who turned around slowly to face Loc. "Go on, Tiva."

Tiva obeyed. Her face betrayed neither fear nor eagerness but her feet moved her forward like some sort of wind-up doll. Loc watched her approach, trying to figure out sort of trick Zahrul had up his sleeve. He could already feel a slight migraine at the back of his head. He felt light-headed, and suddenly tired.

"Stop!" Loc cried out, lowering himself onto one knee. "Stay… where you…"

It was too late. Loc fainted, his mind a black void. The audio was still on, playing the sound of footsteps growing closer. For a few moments, he could not think but then, in slow degrees, his vision returned along with a sense of acute panic. He looked up to see Zahrul looking down at him with a polite nod. Tiva stood a little ways back with Bolin who was sniffling.

"Don't bother," Zahrul said softly as Loc attempted to sit up. His body reacted like a sack of rocks. "The effects won't last long although you might feel a bit stiff."

"What… did you do…" Loc asked, his words slurring.

Zahrul smirked but relented. "I do suppose a more elaborate explanation is in order. You see, Tiva's Spec ability enables her to utilize a very particular form of Bloodbending. As I mentioned earlier, she can track specific blood samples through their signature components. She can also use her ability to manipulate an individual's blood acidity levels or blood pressure. You're rather lucky, you know. Some of her earlier subjects had a tendency to – how to put this? – die."

Loc grunted, wishing more than ever that he could punch the smug bastard in the face. Zahrul seemed unsupportive this plan and disappeared from Loc's limited vantage point. Loc heard him stop nearby, and stoop down, presumably to examine something.

A brief interval followed in which Loc struggled to gain control of his sluggish limbs. From the floor he saw Tiva and Bolin watching him. He wanted to shout, to tell Bolin to run, but he was doubly afraid that Tiva would just Bloodbend him too. Maybe even kill him.

"Sadly, time seems to fly with such exciting company," said Zahrul from the corner of Loc's eye. "I'm afraid our exit is due."

Blood circulation appeared to be coming back in Loc's left arm, and he surreptitiously flexed his fingers to make sure his hand was working. Zahrul's back was turned while he said something to Tiva or maybe Bolin. All Loc knew was that in just a few seconds, he'd have just enough strength back to strike.

"Oh, and I nearly forgot." Zahrul turned, his hand lying gently on top of Bolin's head. He smiled at Loc, who stared back, ready to blast a hole through the man's face. "As per our bargain, I owe you a Spec. I've changed my mind about this boy. You can have him."

For a second, Loc hesitated, a mistake he that he didn't know he would regret. In a flash, Zahrul pulled out a blade from his sleeve and drove it directly into Bolin's side. The blade was so long that Loc half expected the tip to come out through the other side. All the while, Zahrul watched Loc who did not realize he was screaming, his voice no longer slurred but shrill and desperate.

Bolin, chalk-white and openmouthed, had barely a moment's notice before the blade was pulled from his side. The blood spilled like a river onto the worn carpet, a punctured barrel of fine wine. It reminded him of that time half a decade ago when his own brother was slit open like a ripe fruit. The only difference was that Bolin would not break this time. No matter the consequences, he would not bring down another building; and he would not kill – not even his worst enemies. As he blacked out with Loc's screams still ringing in his ears, he refused to be the monster, and instead chose to face the darkness alone.

Zahrul left the building with Tiva following close behind him. He relished the scene he had just left behind: a man screaming in terror as he foolishly attempted to revive a soon-to-be dead boy. Zahrul wondered if he had miscalculated the worth of the Spec but, considering that a tainted gem might be more of a hindrance than an asset, he concluded that his decision to end the miserable boy's life was a rather good one. And now the only thing left to do was finish the job.

Around the corner he found the sleek Satomobile right where he had left it. The shiny new model seemed rather out of place in the abandoned neighborhood surrounded by dilapidated buildings and boarded up shops but he felt strangely comfortable standing on the dirty side of the city.

"After you, my dear," Zahrul said as he opened the backdoor for Tiva. He climbed into the driver's seat, having left his bodyguard behind in the building. He made a mental note to hire his drivers and bodyguards separately. He started up the vehicle and sped away down the deserted street. In the rearview mirror, he saw Tiva's face, the only sign of emotion a single tear sliding down her left cheek. "Now, now, Tiva, don't get upset. We're doing them a favor, you know."

After a minute or two, Zahrul buckled his seatbelt and instructed Tiva to do the same. From the pocket of his jacket, he took out the switchbox he had picked up before stabbing the little boy. A small red stain was visible on the bottom. Zahrul, with his eyes on the road ahead, placed his thumb over a metal plate at the top and sent a small electrical current from the tips of his fingers into the switchbox. He heard a mechanical click which was followed by a blinking red light. He slammed his foot to the accelerator, just as a colossal explosion lit up the night sky behind him like celebratory fireworks.

* * *

**_..._**

* * *

Mako's lungs were burning when he arrived at the site of the demolished building. The air was thick with dust, smoke, and burning debris. He thought he heard shouts or maybe sirens or dogs barking but none of that mattered. He was fighting through the fog of dust, coughing and spitting as he screamed out for his brother.

"BOLIN!" He took another step and felt his foot hit something soft. A body. Frantic, Mako knelt down, pulling at a blood-soaked arm trapped beneath a pile of rubble. He nearly vomited when he saw that it was half a man, his head and most of his right leg blasted away.

Mako pushed himself to keep looking, his eyes watering in the cloud of dust. He was so desperate in his search that he did not even think about the fire that surrounded the wreckage or that a frightfully familiar pressure was building in the pit of his stomach. It was like being sucked into a vacuum, the sound muting so that for the first time he could hear a small voice – a voice he'd been ignoring for a very long time. _You know what you are_, the fire whispered. _Pyro_.

"Hey, Mako!"

Mako turned around in a strange stupor, the fire still hissing in his ear. A dark shape approached through the gloom. For a fleeting moment he thought it was Bolin but the dark shape split into two people: Asami and Korra.

Holding a sleeve over her mouth and nose, Asami grabbed Mako by the arm and tried to lead him away. "C'mon, Mako, it's dangerous!"

"But I have to find someone," Mako coughed, stumbling over rubble.

"You've got to be kidding!" snapped Korra as she used her Earthbending to clear the dust and wreckage in front of them. "The whole building's collapsed! Your chances of finding anyone are next to none."

A sharp scream of shock interrupted Korra. She wheeled around to find Asami backing away from Mako, holding a burned hand to her chest. Mako was standing rooted to the spot, his eyes cast down to his feet, his breathing heavy.

"What just happened?" Korra asked as she moved forward with a waterskin. She uncorked in and spilled water onto Asami's burned hand. "Did you touch something on the ground or –"

Asami suddenly grabbed Korra by the shoulder. "We need to move," she said urgently, shoving Korra forward.

"Wait, I'm not done –"

"Look at him!" Asami said in an uncharacteristically high-pitched voice.

Korra looked up. Where one minute ago Mako had been standing quite still, he was now staring at them with a frighteningly bloodthirsty look. A raw hunger was visible in his amber eyes and he his teeth were bared like an animal's, his hands clenched into fists. The scariest thing was that the fire seemed to responding to his audible growling. Yellow and orange flames rose higher, flashing like a warning sign and angrily spitting at the two girls.

"Oh, sh –" Korra slowly took a step back, afraid that any sudden movements might set Mako off. "Asami, you didn't tell me that he was a... that he was a…."

"Pyro," Asami finished for her.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

**A/N: **When is Book 2 coming out? I'm usually on top of stuff like this but in between the season finales for Glee, Person of Interest, and Elementary, I have lost all track of things that really matter. You know, watching animated TV shows and investing my emotions and energy in fictional characters. Good times.


	27. Fireflies

**A/N**: New chapter!

**2013-05-27**: Switched around the last two paragraphs. I'm hoping it brings a little more clarity but might not matter much.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Fireflies**

* * *

Chief Lin Bei Fong sat at her desk, her fingers raking back a stubborn strand of iron gray hair that continued to fall into her tired green eyes. She pulled self-consciously at her casual attire: a plain white shirt and practical grey trousers. Even though she was technically off duty, she felt exposed without her uniform, despite the fact that she was only going through paperwork. A lot had piled up during her brief absence to attend Katara's funeral. She had always been like an aunt to her. Thinking about Katara reminded Lin of the old days.

Just then, a harried looking telegraph operator game skidding into her office without knocking. "Chief, there's been an explosion down on the old Tourist District! The police department is on their way down but witnesses say it was a bomb!"

Chief Bei Fong stood up at once. "Alert the Metalbending Task Force and get the fire department on the line. We need to assess the situation." She was already at her personal locker. The metal door flew open at a wave of her hand. A full-body armor flew out and dressed the chief from top to bottom as though it had been waiting for that precise moment.

At that very moment, another telegram operator came scrambling in, almost colliding with the first operator. "Chief Bei Fong," the second operator blurted out as the other one left. "There's been an accident… the Jasmine Hotel –"

"Yes, I've already heard," replied the Chief as she conducted a last minute check on her retractable grappling hooks.

But the telegram operator shook her head. "It was a message from the fire fighters first on the scene. There's a fire – and it's not from the explosion."

"What do you mean?"

"They…" The operator faltered, a look of fear on her face.

"Out with it, Miss Rua!" Lin barked.

With a breathless quickness, Rua managed to answer. "Chief, they're saying it's a Pyro."

* * *

**...**

* * *

Korra had never been one to back down from a fight – never. No matter how menacing or tough her opponents, she'd always been confident, not only in her skills, but the challenge. Challenges were what she lived for although they had been difficult to come by living in a sheltered place with only one guard and a pet Polar Bear Dog as her friends. One she'd left, Korra had faced nothing but challenges but this one – faced with a Pyro on a gloomy night surrounded by a collapsed building and fire – was unprecedented.

Korra sensed Asami tense up beside her. Both girls had their eyes glued to the boy in front of them. He looked even more emaciated in the glow of red embers, the light carving shadows into his face so that it looked more sunken and skull-like. His eyes glowed; an eerie shade of yellow and orange, a death glare aimed straight at the two girls.

"We're not going to hurt you," Korra called out, figuring that it was worth trying to reason with the boy. After all, wasn't that what years of training at the OWL Fortress had tried and mostly failed to teach her?

Asami nudged Korra in the ribs. "We need to run," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, not daring to take her eyes off of Mako. "There's no point talking to him…"

"Are you nuts?" Korra hissed back, dropping all pretense of calmness. "We might be able to take him. Besides, he'll fry us once our backs are turned!"

"Can't you hear it?" Asami hissed.

Korra strained her ears. Indeed, the wail of sirens – either police cars or fire trucks or perhaps both – was coming their way. Obviously, a gigantic building blown to bits was not something likely to go unnoticed. A part of her wanted to leave before they found her, the AWOL Avatar who'd run away with her allegedly murderous pet. Another part of her wanted to stay, if only to warn them about Mako.

Asami, on the other hand, did not have a choice. If the police were to get a hold of her, there was no doubt that the Agni Kai Triad would find out. They could have her murdered or kidnapped while she was being questioned at the police station. Ty Rhan might have lied to her about a number of things, but the brutality and resourcefulness of the Agni Kais were no mere fantasy. It was time to leave.

Asami dashed for the nearest alleyway, ducking for cover. Mako punched several fireballs her way but missed. Korra took cover as well. Crouching behind a mountain of rubble, she heard Mako growl like a rabid Eel Hound. Yet, he sounded close. Korra could only assume that Asami was hiding or had escaped by herself.

"Thanks a lot, Asami," Korra muttered under her breath.

As though in answer, Mako launched a stream of fire into the air, a bright ribbon of red and orange flames fluttering against a backdrop of ink black smoke.

* * *

**...**

* * *

Four fire trucks were already hosing down the collapse site when Chief Bei Fong and her team of Metalbenders showed up in pairs in patrol cars. Usually the RCPD's transportation of choice was a specially designed blimp that patrolled the city by day. However, nighttime flight restrictions meant that police officers traveled by car or risk falling off a roof should they choose to move via metal cables.

"Chief Bei Fong!" The Fire Chief, a tall burly man with a receding hairline greeted Lin as she got out of her vehicle, her green eyes observing the scene. "Thank the Spirits you've made it in time."

"Have you contained the fire?" Lin asked.

"Pretty much, yes," the Fire Chief replied. "There were no casualties as far as we can tell. It was an abandoned building – district, more like. But as you've already heard…"

"Yes, the –" Chief Bei Fong paused, motioning to her team who assembled behind her, "Pyro problem. Are you sure?"

"Quite positive." The Fire Chief pointed at the opposite end of the crash site where a fire was still raging, although it seemed to be burning in a vertical pillar without spreading out. "One of our firefighters went to try and douse it but then he saw the strange nature in which the fire was moving." Before Lin could ask, the Fire Chief added, "We're not sure he had anything to do with the explosion. I'm sure the bomb squad will take a look at it but for now…"

Lin frowned, dubious. "How do we know it's not a regular Firebender?"

"Because I know him," said a voice beside them.

Lin and the rest of them turned to see a very pretty teenage girl standing off to one side. She seemed rather disheveled with dust settling in her black hair and her long eyelashes. Her sea-glass green eyes were adamant however and there was a certain steely resolve in her posture that told Lin that this was not one of those prissy princess types who made hysterical claims to garner attention.

"My name is Yuri and I live on the streets. I was looking for stuff in some dumpsters a couple blocks from here when I heard this big explosion. Came running. And then I saw someone who looked real familiar – fire all around him. I recognized him from the streets – he's Mako the Pyro."

"Mako the Pyro?" echoed Lin, an eyebrow raised.

The girl named Yuri shrugged. "S'far as I know, they were all rumors until I saw it for myself tonight. You should see his face. It's just like the stories they tell – the creepy eyes were all animal-like. He's a Pyro, that's for sure."

There was a brief silence as the Fire Chief and the Metalbending Police Squad contemplated this information. Yuri stood there, looking slightly apprehensive but valiantly hiding it behind a default "bored teenager" expression.

"One more question, if you don't mind, Yuri," said Chief Bei Fong after a pause.

"Shoot," said Yuri, brushing her hair back.

"Why are you telling us this?"

For a moment, Yuri did not answer. She merely returned Lin's intense gaze. Suddenly, she broke out into a grin, a reaction that the Chief of Police had not been expecting. "That's easy," Yuri said, shoving her hands in her pockets and starting to walk away. "Now you owe me," she called over her shoulder.

* * *

**..**

* * *

Lin let the girl leave. A split-second inclination told her to hold the teenager back but there was no point. The girl hadn't done anything wrong unless she'd been lying, and even then teenagers were bound to bluff that they hadn't done it on purpose. The pressing matter was about the Pyro – if he was one.

"All right, team, we're taking this in pairs," barked Chief Bei Fong. "We need this Mako character surrounded before he goes berserk. Move out!"

"Uh, Chief, how do we know he hasn't already?" a scrappy young Metalbender asked nervously.

"You ever seen a real Pyro lose it before, Fu?"

"Uh, well, no…"

"Well trust me when I say this," replied Lin, looking over towards the pillar of fire. "You don't want to be there when it happens."

* * *

**..**

* * *

Korra held her breath, not knowing when Mako would find her. At the moment, he seemed to be engrossed in his tower of flames. When Korra managed a brief peek over at him, she thought he might actually be talking to the flames, or perhaps he was talking to himself. Korra wondered if she could sneak away without being spotted.

Just then, approaching footsteps drew Korra's attention. From the shadows emerged what looked like a troop of armor-clad warriors come to defend the weak against the Pyro. Not that Korra would ever consider that she, the Avatar, was weak. However, there was strength in numbers – something that Korra lacked. Some of them were dragging along a large spotlight which was mounted on a stand. The beams were all pointed at one person: Mako.

"RCPD, we have you surrounded!" someone yelled through a megaphone, the eerily amplified voice reverberating in the night. "Get down on the ground NOW!"

Korra, hidden from view, saw the armored officers popping up all around the fiery pillar that lay at Mako's feet. He ignored the newcomers. His lips moved ceaselessly, his eyes transfixed on the flames as if he were hypnotized by the light.

"Get on the ground!" the megaphone voice blared out once more.

All around them, Korra heard metallic clicks and something like cables unwinding from their spools. Back home, Korra had heard stories about the Metalbenders in Republic City who zipped along the city skylines on metal cables like acrobats. It was one thing to hear about them but quite another to finally see them in action. The only drawback was the fact that Korra was in the middle of a potentially lethal battle.

"This is your final warning!"

For the first time Mako, stood up straight and looked around at the Metalbenders. To Korra's amazement, he seemed neither worried nor intimidated. His eyes scanned the area, as though scouting out each individual member of the RCPD. Slowly he raised his hands –

All the lights – Mako's fire, the police spotlights, everything – went out completely. It did not die in degrees like a normal flame but was extinguished in a second as though someone had buried it under a cartful of sand. There was a whirring noise as metal cables flew out towards the place Mako had stood. Someone – a female with a gruff voice – was shouting orders. Korra decided to run amidst the chaos.

* * *

**..**

* * *

_Mako…_

Mako did not reply.

_Mako, it's us… we want to help you…_

"But you can't," Mako spoke aloud – at least he thought he did. "You can't help me. He's dead. My brother's gone…" His heart clenched his eyes stung. He didn't know where he was anymore.

_But Mako… we can help you avenge him… you have the power…_

Mako shook his head. "I don't have the power to do anything. I couldn't save him. I – I failed."

_You only fail if you choose to, Mako… Give us the word…_

"I want to see him again." There was a pause, then two. "I want –"

From a far off distance, a voice echoed. It was dark so Mako couldn't see. Or maybe he had his eyes closed. Either way, the voice was distant and he could barely make out the words. 'The ground', it seemed to say. It was faint but Mako heard it again. 'This is your final warning'…

_It's time Mako… choose now… do you wish to punish those who hurt your brother?_

"Yes!" Mako shouted. "Yes, I do!"

_Then listen very carefully, Mako…_

The voice seemed to be leading him somewhere though Mako could not even feel his own two feet.

_Can you hear us?_

Mako nodded. The voice – or rather voices it seemed – was pointing him in a different direction. It was guiding his hands, his feet, and even his breath.

_Let them feel your pain… _It whispered gently. _Hurt them… burn them…_

Mako shivered.

_Now_ kill_ them. Every last one._

* * *

**.**

* * *

"Someone get those lights on!" Lin barked. A couple of officers called back through the darkness to which she replied, "I don't want to hear excuses! Just get the bloody lights back on!"

Somewhere to her left, a tiny light flickered, a bright bulb in the darkness. Then another flickered on, and then another and another.

"Finally," sighed Lin, throwing up her hands. "Where is the boy?"

"Chief!" Someone shouted. "We can't get the lights back on! The filament has completely melted!"

"What are you talking about?" barked Lin, trying to figure out who was speaking. "Then how do you explain those lights?"

"Um, Chief?" Lin recognized the nervous voice of the new recruit named Fu. "Th-those aren't our lights."

He was right. In the space of a few seconds, the number of small lights had far exceeded the number of equipment they had on hand. Almost a hundred tiny lights, each a miniscule light bulb, swarmed through the air. At first Lin thought that she was seeing things. Were they sparks left from the extinguished fire? Or fireflies?

"Whoa, they're coming towards us!" Fu cried out. A dozen or so mysterious fireflies had come wandering over to where they were standing. They illuminated the surrounding area so that Lin and Fu could see each other's faces. Fu, curiosity blooming on his youthful face, stretched out a hand, inviting the tiny lights. "Aw, look, I think it likes me."

"Ridiculous," scoffed Lin, keeping her distance with the lights. Even up close she couldn't figure out exactly what they were, just that they irritated her. "Have we caught the boy yet or am I the only doing my job –"

A scream erupted so close to her ear that Lin jumped in shock – a first for the well-seasoned Chief of Police. But when she turned to Fu, something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach and all the blood in her face left it. Fu was kneeling on the ground, his upper torso completely covered in tiny bright lights which he was attempting to scrape off. Lin saw just a glimpse of his terrified expression. His mouth was open in a helpless scream – right up until the lights crawled straight down his throat and silenced him. Completely muted, Fu's arms kept flailing around. Lin saw that his fingers were burned to the bone. The smell of cooked flesh permeated the air.

"Water!" Lin shouted hoarsely. "Water! We need water over here!"

There was a commotion of voices. The whole place was now brightly lit due to the multiplying mass of fireflies and Lin could do nothing but stand aghast at the scene. The tiny luminescent creatures – now in the hundreds or thousands – were attacking police officers left and right. Some of the Metalbenders who attempted to help their comrades were soon covered with tiny lights themselves. More and more shrieks of terror filled the air. The stench of singed hair and scorched skin was unbearable. Even more chilling was the eventual silence or the thud of a fallen body.

"Fall back!" Chief Bei Fong shouted. "Fall back! All of you!"

Beside her, Fu's motionless body which was still covered in tiny fireflies, was twitching erratically, almost as though he were still alive.

"Fu?" Lin shouted, wary of touching him. "Fu can you hear me?"

The body twitched again but there was no answer. Yet the movements were more pronounced. His legs shook violently as if they were trying to shake off the little lights. Then, with strange cracking noises, the limbs twisted and bent themselves at odd angles until the body was standing upright again; the shell of a once living soul, glowing like a star.

"Fu…" Lin gasped, taking a step back. The bright corpse took slow steps towards her, the limbs still jerking. And then Lin realized that they were all around her. All the victims – her Metalbenders, her comrades – were now rising from the ground, covered from head to foot in the brightest glow of firelight.

* * *

**To be continued...**

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**A/N**: Lots of homework to do. Sorry for the delay.


	28. Burnout

**A/N**: Hey everyone! Here's the new chapter. Enjoy! :)

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**Chapter Sixteen: Burnout**

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Asami found herself running the minute she turned the corner. Her heart was thudding, and she inwardly cursed herself for being so foolish. What had she been thinking, going up to a police officer to warn them about Mako? What if they had seen through her bluff, taken her in for more questioning, and discovered that Yuri the Homeless Kid was actually Asami Sato, daughter of the infamous criminal entrepreneur?

She kept walking, picking alleyways at random and crossing the empty streets that had no crosswalks. It was a deserted district and the fact that a building had inexplicably exploded a few blocks away meant absolutely nothing here. She ran and then slowed to a walk, trying to figure out where she was going. She'd left all her stuff with Korra's gigantic pet. It was at a warehouse in one of her father's old factory sites. After all these years, they'd just stripped the interior machinery, leaving the empty buildings as a reminder of the Future Industries' past glory days.

"Hey!"

Asami stopped. She turned around, wary of a fight. It was Korra.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Korra shouted, running to catch up with the older girl was already walking away. She grabbed Asami's shoulder.

"What do you want?" Asami snapped, violently slapping Korra's hand away.

"What is your problem?" Korra said, not for the first time that day. "You can't just leave without a word!"

"Of course I can. If I'd stayed, I'd be dead."

"That's not what I meant!"

Asami leveled her gaze with Korra who was shorter. The younger girl had adamant blue eyes and was puffed up with indignation. Suddenly, Asami hated her. Perhaps in another life, the energetic Avatar might have been her friend. But the fact that this girl didn't have a clue about the real world – had probably never been in a real fight her entire life – was intolerable. It was easy to see the sheltered privileged life Korra must have led all these years. Asami knew because she had lived it before her mother had been murdered.

"Look, you totally left me stranded back there, okay?" Korra said. "I can't believe you –"

"Korra –"

" – to just leave like –"

"Shut up!"

Korra clammed up when she noticed the expression on Asami's face. She was looking at something behind Korra with a mixture of fear and worry. At first, Korra wasn't entirely sure what it was, but slowly, a man emerged from the shadows of a boarded up shop.

"Who are you?" Asami demanded, addressing the stranger. He was limping and seemed to be carrying a bundle or sack in his arms. "Stay where you are!"

"Are either one of you a Healer?" the man asked hoarsely.

"Who's asking?" Korra called out, curiosity getting the best of her. He was coming closer and didn't appear to be armed.

"Please," the man croaked again, dragging his leg along while trying not to drop what he was holding. "He needs a Healer…"

"Who needs a Healer?" Asami asked suspiciously.

The man ignored her, and as he drew nearer, Korra saw that the man that his dark hair was coated with dust. Half his face was glistening with blood. The dark hue contrasted heavily with his eyes. His eyes. Strangely enough, they were mismatched in color.

"Please…" His legs gave way when he was just a meter away from them. He gently laid the bundle on the ground. Korra and Asami both recoiled slightly at the sight of a young boy who seemed pale as death, and his stomach was wrapped in bloodied bandages. The man grabbed Korra's arm which was closest, and stared beseechingly up at the startled girl. "Save him…"

* * *

**.**

* * *

Lin was paralyzed with fear as she watched the burning corpses – limbs jerking forward with every lurching step – coming closer and closer. In all her life, she had never heard of a Pyro conjuring little flesh-eating fireflies that could control the dead. There was just one time she'd ever seen a Pyro in the flesh. Five or six years ago, she'd led a team to bust a gang of smugglers. Their merchandise had been Specs – all except one. A gang member had opened fire on the RCPD, and the Pyro had gone ballistic, burning up half the warehouse in his sudden frenzy. Lin remembered how the Pyro – barely older than fifteen at most – had set himself ablaze in the process.

But now Lin was faced with a daunting realization. If she attempted to restrain the corpses with her metal cables, would the fireflies attack her? Did she dare risk it? Or should she run or contain them somehow? The thought of those horrible fireflies invading the homes of citizens kept her rooted to the spot. The slow-moving corpses were now only a few meters away. She scanned the area for the perpetrator, the Pyro. He was nowhere to be seen…

Taking a deep breath, Lin removed the metal soles from her armor boots. It was never a good idea to go barefoot where the remnants of a blasted building were scattered everywhere. Broken glass or sharp pieces of wood could pierce her foot, a catastrophic injury for any Earthbender who used seismic sense. But a crisis called for desperate measure, and so Lin lifted her foot –

The pads of her foot connected with the ground. Something sharp dug into her heel but Lin ignored the pain and closed her eyes. Immediately, she could "see" her surroundings, much clearer and farther than before. Every piece of concrete, every corpse was within sight and, just behind her, she saw someone – tall, lanky, and shaking with quiet anger.

She whipped a metal cable behind her as she whirled around. The coils wrapped around the teenager with precision. Lin was now face-to-face with Mako the Pyro, and she was momentarily stunned by his altered appearance. His face was livid with rage, his amber eyes tinted with scarlet, his teeth bared like an animal's. He stared at her with hatred.

The moment the metal cables fully tightened around the Pyro, his left arm burst into white flames. It was Firebending as Lin had never seen it. He slashed through the cable as if it were paper and dashed at her with enormous speed. Lin threw herself sideways as Mako sliced the air, using his fire-encased arm as a burning blade. She landed near one of the firefly-ridden corpses which made a terrifying grab at her.

"NO!" The command, like a spitting bonfire, issued from Mako's chapped lips but sounded like a chorus of many different voices. Lin scrambled out of the way as the corpse immediately backed off. Mako continued in the same strangely magnified voice, "Leave her. This one is _mine_."

"Wrong move, kid," said Lin. She slammed her foot down onto the ground, feeling the sharp sting of her wounded heel. All at once, each and every burning body as well as Mako's was trapped in a cone of solid rock. Only Mako's head was exposed as he struggled but the corpses were completely covered. Feeling the lack of oxygen, the fireflies buzzed loudly and raged but were quickly extinguished. The rock cones disintegrated after the fireflies died out, releasing the limp corpses to the ground where they lay quite still.

"What have you done?" Mako seethed. Lin could see the effect that the loss of the fireflies had on him. The scarlet in his eyes was slowly subsiding and he suddenly seemed exhausted. "What have you done?" he repeated, and this time, his voice was that of a confused thirteen-year-old.

Lin walked up to the Pyro, who looked more dazed and confused than ever. There was no reason to keep him trapped in the cone anymore but she was not about to take any chances.

"Mako the Pyro, or whatever the hell your name is," Lin said. "You're under arrest for arson, assaulting a police officer, and… and…" She looked around her, at all her fallen Metalbenders. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Lin grabbed the Pyro by the chin, glaring into his amber eyes. "The next time I see you out of cuffs, I'm going to break every single one of your bones," she whispered, relishing the fear in his eyes. "And then I'll bury your miserable little ass. _Alive._"

In the early hours of the morning, Mako was processed and assigned to maximum security holding cell. His criminal trial was set to begin in two weeks. Lin would attend the memorial service for her fellow Metalbenders. It would be the second funeral she attended that month.

* * *

**To be continued...**

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**A/N**: Next update is coming in July once all my exams are over. Thanks for reading!


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